


Reconciliation of Mammoth Proportions

by Zoop (zoop526)



Series: Out of All Proportions [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Assisted Suicide, Bizarre Coincidences, Gen, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Orc-talk, Post War of the Ring, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoop526/pseuds/Zoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 of Out of All Proportions. Whenever you bring people together who have a little 'history,' what went on before is like an elephant in the room. Some really big elephants stampede into the settlement just when the Uruk-hai and their mates are getting comfortable. It's a small world, folks. *Really* small.</p><p>UNDERGOING MAJOR REWRITE - STAY TUNED FOR COMPLETE STORY REPLACEMENT IN THE NEAR FUTURE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the long-awaited sequel to Hookup of Epic Proportions! This tale picks up right after the end of the last one. Be warned: if you weren't already aware, this installment in the series will also continue Escaping Isengard (note that several names in this opening chapter were dropped like bombs in the epilogue of that story). Enjoy!
> 
> A/N: Timing-wise, this story begins within days of Hookup. Consider also that it is roughly August of 3021, Third Age.

Akhûna bolted awake, her heart hammering in her chest, breath coming in gasps. Red eyes wide, she scanned the chamber. Her body shook and sweat stood out on her skin.

There it was again: the plaintive, pain-filled cry of a _tark_ , echoing through the tunnels. The sound took her back to Dol Guldur for a moment, and her gut clenched. She could barely see in the dark anymore; age had robbed her of so much more than just the ability to bear pups for her mate. Instinct and scent guided her searching hands as she clumsily fumbled about the bedding, scrabbled through the hides, looking for...

Relief flooded her when her questing fingers brushed Barash's hip. Without a word, Akhûna cleaved to his side, wrapping her arms about his squat torso. She heard his grunt as his arm encircled her, holding her close.

"Ssshh, my _sha_ _û_ _k_ ," he murmured. "We ain't there no more."

She took deep breaths to calm herself. It was several minutes before she regained her composure, banished the memories, and listened.

They were at it again. Shagal playing with her pet. By the sound of it, Fulak had given in and joined her. A scowl contorted the Orcess's face.

"I want that _tark_ outta my den," she growled. "She don't listen to me. You gotta be the one, Barash. Throw the baggage out, or I'm killin' your whelp and _I'm_ tossin' it out."

"She's yours too, my one," Barash pointed out, though with little conviction. "Hate to take away her favorite toy."

"Spoil her rotten, you do," Akhûna snarled, her tone softening. She idly stroked his chest, her fingers remembering the strength of his youth. Were she in a better mood, she'd read the stories etched there, every last one a tale of glory. "Always bring trouble, them _tarks_. I won't have a _baalak_ in my den," she warned.

Barash chuckled, turning his head to nuzzle her. "Won't ruin her if she whelps for that bit of shit. And I don't think you got much to worry about in any case; she starts swellin' with a pup, Fulak'll see to it."

"Only if he knows it ain't his, and I don't think he'd figure it out til it drops," Akhûna groused. "That boy lets her get away with about as much as you do, yuh weak-willed bastard."

"Our bonded mates've got us by the sack and no mistake," Barash observed sagely. As he'd intended, she chuckled and swatted his chest.

"That don't explain your whelp," she pointed out, and he shrugged.

"She was always my favorite," he replied.

"Hmph," Akhûna snorted. "Just like you, she is. I remember. Took me twenty years to get the _tark_ stink off yer todger, you sick bastard." Though her tone was harsh, her hand snaked down his stomach to fondle him gently.

"Ain't nothin' in the world I wanna stick my old fella in more'n you," Barash purred, closing his eyes and grinning drowsily.

Akhûna smiled. It never took more than a few moments to get him up, even after all these years. "Long as you ain't thinkin' of no _tark_ cunny when yer in there," she growled, rolling on top of him.

His red eyes opened to slits as she took him, and his gnarled hands worked their way into her hides, finding breasts that, in spite of the affects of age, still fulfilled his every need. "All I see is you, my beauty, my _sha_ _û_ _k_. All I feel... is you."

"Silver-tongue," Akhûna murmured, laying flat on his chest and curling her arms under his shoulders. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on him and drew up her knees along his sides. His arms embraced her, and he sighed contentedly. She focused all her attention on the sound of his heart and the feel of him, the scent of him, her _sha_ _û_ _k_ , her own. All else drifted away like mist.

Nothing further was needed. As they often did, Akhûna and Barash pressed flesh to flesh, one inside the other, their hearts beating together as though they were one body, one mind, one spirit. So it had been for hundreds of years. If fate was kind, so it would be for hundreds more.

* * *

Shaataz scowled as the tunnels echoed with the unmistakable sounds of her sister's pleasure. "Dat be disgustin'," she growled, staring toward the entrance to the chamber she shared with her mate. Nariin sleepily rolled over and nudged up close to her, his arm draped lazily over her swollen belly.

"Don't listen," he murmured, nipping her ear. She giggled softly.

"Can't be helped," she replied. Relaxing against his chest, she sighed. "Not when she bellow loud as a mûmak."

Nariin snorted, laughing into her neck. "You ain't so quiet yourself, my gal," he purred. His hand stroked down her thigh, hoping to nudge those legs apart. He never seemed to get enough of the Orcess; he'd readily followed her into these caves and hadn't poked his head out the entrance again for over two years now. A good deal of that time was spent in her bed.

It took her awhile to fully accept him, though. Maybe she claimed him the first night they met, and he'd happily given himself to her, but he still had a time of it getting to _this_ point. A good deal of groveling at her feet, earning the approval of her sire and dam, proving his value to the clan and his prowess in all sorts of useful enterprises... It hadn't been easy.

Luckily, he was well-equipped to handle the easy part. Shaataz was as different as night and day from her sister, Shagal, except in one thing: she also enjoyed a good rut. She was just a bit more particular about who was involved. His long experience in that area ensured his success.

Now they were bonded, and still aglow with the heady feeling of it. Shaataz was close to popping with his whelp, the first one he'd actually cared to be around for. It was _theirs_ ; that made all the difference.

"Yuh horny as a young'un," she chuckled, playfully swatting his hand away from her sex. "Shaataz don't wanna play wit' dat business goin' on." Growling low, she muttered, "She think we don't remember dat sound. Nardrît likely in a hole, tryin' tuh hide."

Frowning, Nariin idly caressed her hip. "Was it bad there?"

She nodded slowly. "All the time, there be _tarks_ screamin' for mercy. They gettin' flayed 'n flogged, bits cut off, while they still alive. Not just the _tarks_ but them _golug-hai_ from the forest. Any that be dumb enough to wander near. Bolg be long gone, but they do his will all the same." She shuddered and pulled the furs up over her head. "Screamin' and screamin'... Yuh think yuh don't mind it so much. They's _tarks_ and all. But then they run outta _tarks_ and _golug_ , and they come after _us_. Da didn't lose his leg in no fight."

"What happened?" the Orc asked quietly. His arms instinctively held her more closely, protectively.

"The _tark_ screamin' stop, and they bring him in," she whimpered, "and they torture him. They saw off his leg, real slow. Mum find it... just thrown out...and she went lookin' for the rest of him. They just... dump'im when they done. She find him and take him somewhere safe. She keep him alive." She shivered and pressed closer to Nariin's reassuring warmth. "Say you do that for me. You can't find me, you go lookin' till you do. Even if yuh gotta look for a hundred years for your Shaataz."

"I'd look for a thousand," he murmured. "My _sha_ _û_ _k_ , there ain't nothing that'd keep me from your side, not even death." He nuzzled her ear, nipping affectionately. "Yer stuck with me."

The Orcess giggled again. "Rather be stuck _by_ yuh." She took his hand and held it to her heart, sighing deeply. "I be in a better mood when dat noise stop."

"All my forces are lined up, my dove," Nariin chuckled, pressing his erection to her backside for emphasis. "Just waiting for the call to arms."

She wiggled her bottom a bit, laughing more easily. "Stand ready. Shagal gotta sleep _some_ time, eh?"

* * *

The distant screams subsided into sobs, the tone pleading. Skût paused, looking up from her youngest. Zog was suckling hungrily at her breast, his small hands squeezing almost painfully. He was a good, strong lad already, and his mum was proud. Her older boy, Korb, had taken to sleeping buried in the furs to drown out the noise of that snivelling _tark_. Close to the entrance of their chamber, Gundul paced. Every now and then, he stopped to prick his ears, then huffed angrily and resumed.

"Ain't gonna go on much longer, yuh know," he growled to his mate. Nodding assuredly, he added, "Fulak'll put a stop to that shit, mark my words."

Skût, robbed of her tongue by a previous toy of her sister's, merely smacked her lips and sighed. Gundul grunted.

" _You_ know what he's thinkin'," the Orc insisted. "That little cunt's gonna spite him by bondin' to a _tark_."

Chuckling, she shook her head. Her mate sagged a little. "Yeah, that's stupid." Frowning, he went on, "Yuh know, had a peek in there the other day. I think she's usin' that _tark_ filth to get better fuckin' outta Fulak. He's 'bout killin' hisself, fuckin' the _tark_ for her, fuckin' her _through_ the _tark_ , fuckin' her _with_ the _tark_ , fuckin' her _after_ the _tark_... Why she wanna fuck so much, eh? You ain't like that."

Glancing over his shoulder, he met her steady gaze and ducked his head sheepishly. "Yuh don't... go off on yer own or... look for nobody else or nothin'," he mumbled. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he leaned against the rock wall. "Yer good tuh me, Skût. Wish I could... do my job better, is all."

Brow pinched sympathetically, Skût made a small whimpering noise and held her free hand out to him. Gundul sighed and went to sit by her, but couldn't look her in the eye. He let her take his hand, though.

"Guess... once in awhile... I don't do so bad, eh?" he said quietly. "Give yuh these whelps and all. So... sorta proof, ain't it? Sometimes... it works? And, uh... yuh know... maybe... sometimes yuh don't... wish yuh hadn't... just for a minute..." He chuckled bitterly. "'Bout all I'm good for... is that one... one minute, eh?"

She cupped his cheek in her palm and urged him to look at her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she drew him close and pressed her forehead to his. Purring softly, she nuzzled his cheek and ear.

"Yer a good one, Skût," he murmured thickly.

* * *

Bare feet kicking up dust in the tunnel, Kraibûf darted from one side chamber to another, peering in for a moment then moving on. Her nostrils flared as she scented the air, the rocks, the dirt... anything that might tell her where he was.

"Not again," she hissed under her breath. "No. I ain't been cursed. There ain't no trouble. He's just havin' a time of it, is all. Them berries just ain't in season. Had to go far for'em. That's all. Just real far. Then he got lost. Maybe come in the wrong way and he's lost."

She couldn't seem to reassure herself, and each chamber she visited was either empty or showed no sign of Burburûrz. He'd been gone too long for any of her ready excuses to be true.

It wasn't possible for an Orc to bond a second time, but Kraibûf almost felt as though she had. Burbur was steady and sure, and he never asked for anything. Even with her grief over the loss of Nausaar still fresh enough to make her weep in the night, Burbur never demanded she forget about her dead mate, nor did he try to distract her with coupling.

No, Burbur didn't do the sorts of things someone like Fulak might. He held her in his arms and let her grieve. He took the whelps off her hands when she needed to be alone. He pleased her when she wanted to feel _something_ that wasn't ashes and stone.

And when she mentioned a desire for elderberries, he asked no questions. He merely smiled knowingly, grabbed a sack, and went on the hunt. He hadn't come back for two days.

Fretting anxiously, Kraibûf followed the sounds of slapping hides and whimpering. She'd long figured out what to listen for that would spare her having to see one or both of them abusing the _tark_. She didn't care if she barged in on Shagal and Fulak having at each other; it was the _tark_ business that was unnatural.

The hollow the two Orcs shared was layered in furs and hides, trophies from their frequent hunting trips. In the center of the room, Fulak was giving Shagal a vigorous and rough fuck, the Orcess's legs wide and her feet waving wildly in the air.

Off in the corner was the _tark_ , huddled in a ball, discarded and forgotten for the moment. Kraibûf briefly noted how he trembled, his own fresh blood streaking his thighs. Undoubtedly Fulak had a go at him before finishing things with Shagal.

"You lot seen Burbur?" she asked, her voice raised a bit so they'd hear over their own grunting and snarling.

Startled by the interruption, Shagal's attention shifted from her enjoyment to the thoroughly annoying intruder.

"Fuck off, Kraibûf!" she barked, scrabbling her claws about, hunting for something to throw.

"Only he's not been back for days," the young Orcess insisted. "You take him huntin' a lot, so I thought you might..."

"No, I ain't seen yer twat tender," Shagal snapped. "Yuh wanna get yuh some, go look fer Nardrît. He ain't doin' nothin'."

Seething, Kraibûf retorted, "It ain't fuckin' I'm after! He went off for berries, and he ain't been back. Ain'tcha even worried or nothin'?"

" _Busy here!_ " Shagal roared, pointing at Fulak as though to remind Kraibûf of what she was in the midst of doing. "Weren't my job tuh keep the sod from gettin' lost or killed or... oh fuck... gah!" she cried suddenly, and dug her claws into Fulak's shoulders. Glaring intently into her lover's face, Shagal growled, "Yeah, that's good. Do it. Fuck me. Tear me wide open, yuh fucker. Gimme all yuh got."

Sweat pouring down his face and neck, Fulak grimaced and let loose a shuddering howl. He'd already come once, but long habit and simple lust for his mate kept him going into two and, on rare occasions, three completions before Shagal came for him.

He didn't even have two in him this time. With the suddenness of an explosion, Fulak's eyes popped wide at the same time that a searing pain shot through his back. He barked with surprise and collapsed on top of Shagal. The pain was so intense and hit him so hard, burning from the middle of his back straight down to his left knee, that he cried out. He gasped and whimpered, but there seemed to be no end.

And he couldn't move. Every twitch hurt. Even breathing sent a reminder coursing through his body, urging him to stay still.

"What the fuck?" Shagal snarled, mercilessly shoving him off her. She stopped pushing him when high-pitched sobbing started coming out of him. Faltering, she carefully eased herself out from under Fulak and looked him over. "Yuh all right?" she asked uncertainly.

He couldn't speak for almost a minute. Unsure what to do or even what happened, Shagal hesitantly touched his shoulder. "Fulak?" she ventured.

"C-c-can't... m-move," he breathed, his cheek pressed into the furs. "Hurts."

Eyes darting between the two, Kraibûf asked timidly, "So... you ain't seen'im?"

" _Get the fuck outta here!_ " Shagal roared. The younger Orcess jumped back, then fled from the chamber. Shagal huffed furiously, staring after the infuriating Kraibûf for a moment, then turned her attention back to Fulak.

"Be still, now," she crooned, caressing his head. "Shagal's gonna see to yuh." Her brow furrowed with worry as she peered at his quivering body. There was nothing she could see that explained his state, but she knew Fulak better than any. He wouldn't fake something like this. Slowly smoothing her hand down his back, she asked, "Where's it hurt?"

"Sss-sorry," Fulak mumbled, trying to breathe and not breathe at the same time. "Meant tuh... f-finish... sorry."

"Ssshh," Shagal whispered dismissively. "Just be still, now." Forcing herself to smile, she added, "Yuh owe me, but I can wait."

Fulak snorted in disbelief, then winced as another spasm struck him. Shagal flinched along with him. "Don't you leave me, Fulak," she murmured. "Don't yuh dare."

* * *

Shivering naked in the corner, Faelur squeezed his eyes shut. He tried not to hear them. He tried not to think about anything but this brief moment of relative peace.

How much more could his body take? Would he go mad, or was he already there? When would the torment end? He had no answers, only a desperate hope for _any_ end, even a bloody one.


	2. Blackbird, Fly Into the Light of the Dark Black Night

"I believe twenty paces square should be sufficient," the Elf observed, casting a critical eye over the clearing. His thoughts churned over yield and exposure to sun and rain, population and consumption rates. Considering more than half the residents of the settlement were unlikely to eat anything that came from this little garden, he reasoned this would do well enough to start with.

Nodding, a tall Uruk hefted an axe and set to the first tree within the boundaries indicated.

"You guys never cease to amaze me, Celduin," Sandy said, shaking her head. "It didn't even occur to me to actually plant stuff."

"It is no matter," he replied modestly. "In the coming years, there will be fewer of us traveling from the east. You will not be so well... looked after." He smiled a little too quickly.

"Well, you've been unbelievably generous this time," Sandy insisted. "I mean really, a _horse_? That must have cost you..."

"Not at all," he replied, waving away her worries. "Plowing is tedious work. It is not a large plot, but as your families grow, so too should your garden. Then that young colt will be more than able to relieve your burden."

"If the kids don't spoil the hell out of it first," Sandy muttered.

"Razkaar wonders if it can bear a rider yet," Morkoth asked between swings. He nearly had the first tree down.

"Nay, that would not be advisable," Celduin warned. "Though he appears large, it is only because of his breed. He is still too young to be safely ridden."

"I think I'll call him Mr. Ed," Sandy mused thoughtfully. Both the Elf and the Uruk looked at her oddly. She just shrugged and smiled. "So... what lovely veggies will we be planting in the spring?"

"Let me see," Celduin said, rummaging in his sack. "I have brought you leeks, cabbage, carrots, and beans. I was not sure how you would receive my suggestion, or I would have brought more."

Sandy glanced at Morkoth, who grunted and resumed his work. "Well, _some_ of us are thrilled to death about the prospect of eating something that wasn't wandering the forest ten minutes earlier."

"You have never complained before," the Uruk observed without turning. Yet he glanced over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye. "Every bit of meat I laid before you, you put in your mouth." Landing a resounding blow to the next tree trunk in his path, he added, "Smiled and licked your lips, hopeful for another mouthful, in fact."

Cheeks as red as her hair, Sandy glowered at her mate. "Very funny," she muttered, glancing at the Elf. He, too, was a trifle embarrassed, and huffed a little to cover for it.

"Well, when the coming winter passes, and the ground is well cleared, you will need to turn the earth," Celduin instructed. "The plowshare may be harnessed to the colt in a few years, but for now, it may require one of..." He glanced carefully at the Uruk. "I suppose... Well, my friend, you and your fellows _are_ strong..."

Morkoth paused and turned. A slight smile curved his mouth, showing a hint of the sharp teeth within. "I will not have my mate killing herself to plant seeds. I will pull the plow."

"Quite so," the Elf nodded awkwardly. "Only until the colt..."

"I know," Morkoth interrupted. "I am not insulted."

"Forgive me," Celduin sighed quietly. "I have walked beneath the stars for more than a thousand years. In all that time, I have never spoken with..." He shook his head. "You make me forget what you are."

"Would it make a difference if you remembered?" Sandy asked, arching her brow.

The Elf smiled. "Indeed. I would recall the tales told of Nûrzgrat's band. I would be reminded of the King's edict and its prohibition. I would think..."

"Wait, what edict? What prohibition?" Sandy interjected.

Startled, the Elf blinked. "You are not aware? The edict was passed not long after the War's ending. Surely someone should have mentioned..."

"No, nobody said a thing," the woman said, shaking her head. "We aren't exactly sitting on a news hub here. What edict?"

"Simply put, it is a prohibition against hunting Orcs for bounty," the Elf replied. "I do not have full knowledge of the circumstances or reasons for such a law, except that within half a year of the Ring's destruction, an Orc emerged from Mordor seeking a truce with Men. An accord, if you will. King Elessar heard his words, and issued the edict."

Sandy exchanged bewildered looks with Morkoth. "You mean... nobody's out hunting Orcs anymore?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Celduin qualified, "Not... precisely. There are rogue agents, veterans of the War who disagree with the King's edict and operate in the shadows. They are not... _legally_ supported, of course. Any town or village that honors the King does not openly engage Orc hunters. But... the King's men cannot be everywhere at once."

"But... there's this _law_ ," Sandy said, grasping at straws. "So... if we _wanted_ to, we could... join a larger settlement or visit a village or..."

"It would not be advisable," the Elf interjected. Avoiding her eyes, and particularly those of the Uruk, he said, "You and the other women of this settlement... willingly... Well, you are with..."

Huffing with impatience, Sandy supplied, "We're having sex with Orcs. You don't have to dance around the subject; we're all adults here."

Mortified by her bluntness, Celduin had trouble speaking again. "Yes," he finally confirmed. "Quite. I... I do not believe Men are... ready to see this sort of... relationship... displayed so... openly."

"Well, shit," she groused, huffing impatiently. "When the hell _will_ Men be ready? I don't want my kid getting lynched because Joe Blow down the street thinks he looks funny."

"Perhaps Men will come to terms with such things more swiftly than you think," the Elf observed. "Men have short lives, and so their memories are also short. In time, Men will forget their enemies, or at the least, will accept their former enemies as friends. _You_ have done so, as have the other women here." Then he smiled warmly. "Do not forget, you have won the approval of the Lady herself. That is no easy feat." Glancing at the attentive Uruk, he added, "She particularly likes you, Morkoth, father of Ashmau."

Morkoth chuckled quietly and smiled.

"Suffice to say, if one of the eldest of our people finds your folk and your relations acceptable, you have leapt a mighty hurdle already," the Elf concluded. "We are not known for readily changing our opinions," he added, winking and smiling.

"Okay, so there's this law thingy," Sandy pursued doggedly, rounding on Morkoth. "Shouldn't Brytta know about it?"

The Uruk shrugged. "She has made no mention. Ask her."

"I think I will," the redhead muttered, a frown creasing her brow.

* * *

"You must have been _terrified_!" Gwen cried, her eyes wide. Brytta chuckled modestly.

"Fear is rarely acknowledged in battle," she said dismissively. "When you stand toe-to-toe with your enemy, and you see your death in his eye, you can think of nothing else than denying him your blood. Or at the very least, exacting a dear price for taking it."

"Aye," Nûrzgrat agreed, reaching up to clasp her hand. His head lay pillowed on her lap, his eyes and thoughts lazy; their fingers intertwined. "Yuh just can't. Anything else comes to mind, yuh gotta shove it aside. Ain't no room for doubts in that moment."

"If you live through it," Brytta continued, idly playing with her mate's coarse, black hair, "that is the time for fear. I have been in skirmishes that came dangerously close to my ending, but I only understood how close when it was over. _Then_ I succumbed to fear, though the thing I feared was over and done with."

Gwen sat near the couple alongside the smoking firepit, the flames burned low from the midday meal. Beside her was Thakûf, just as raptly attentive to the tales Brytta told, and the comments Nûrzgrat added. Mae sat on a nearby log, mending a shirt with Ashmau a few yards away, batting at the deer tail Ilsa dangled before him. Razkaar glanced up from his carving once in awhile to make sure his friend was doing all right, patiently awaiting any sign the little girl might be interested in playing with him again.

He wished _someone_ would. Even the new addition to the settlement seemed indifferent.

The horse was a draft animal, according to Celduin, but to Razkaar it was a new friend. His old friends seemed to have lost interest in him; maybe this new one wouldn't. Looking toward the dapple-grey animal, he narrowed his eyes. Ghru was being schooled on the finer points of grooming by the ever-patient Brianna as she rocked little Hontor in her arms.

Razkaar thought they didn't have horses where Sandy and Brie came from, but evidently the latter female had one as a child... or wanted one real bad, whichever. He had to confess losing the thread of her gushing excitement in the wake of his own thrill at being able to touch something so beautiful. Then Celduin told them a colt was less likely to have a problem with Orcs than a grown-up horse.

That pissed him off. Raz had never hurt anyone; he hadn't even learned how to hunt yet. Why wouldn't a horse like him? Maybe the Elf tried to soften the blow a bit by saying horses were often trained to hate Orcs, but he still had to admit that the scent of Orc sometimes set them off in a panic.

Razkaar resented being punished by the world for being something he couldn't help, for doing things he'd never done. It was bad enough whiteskins hated him; why did dumb animals have to hate him too?

"Hey!" Sandy barked as she returned to the center of the settlement, Celduin and Morkoth in her wake. Razkaar jerked out of his musings to focus on her. "Brytta, why didn't you tell us there's a law against hunting Orcs?"

"What the fuck?" Nûrzgrat snapped, sitting up quickly. "What're you talkin' about?"

"There's a law, apparently," Sandy said, never taking her eyes off Brytta. "Know anything about it?"

Blinking with surprise, Brytta shrugged helplessly. "Well... yes, of course I do. It is the reason I and the others stopped. Towns were no longer allowed to legally engage my group. We had to find work by other means, so we took to escorting families like Gwen's, or providing protection to merchants shipping goods..." Her gaze flicked over the many shocked faces around her. "You did not know of the law?"

"No, we didn't," Brie said. Meeting Sandy's eyes, she asked, "Does this sound familiar at all?"

The redhead shook her head. "Not a bit. Granted, I'm not all that well-read. For all I know, Orcs and Men were skipping hand-in-hand through the clover within seconds of the Ring's destruction, but I sort of doubt it." She turned to Celduin. "Excuse me, but how in the hell did this happen? And... _what_ happened?"

"I am only aware of the rumors that have come from Gondor," the Elf began. "They run from ridiculous to fantastic, with little room for facts. What is known to me, only because Elrohir and Elladan mentioned it on their last visit over a year ago, is that an Orc of some rank in the former forces of Mordor, emerged from that land in the company of a woman. They engaged Men in..."

"Hold the phone, in the company of a what?" Sandy interjected. "Back it up there, Celduin."

"A woman," the Elf repeated. "A female of the Race of Men. She speaks on his behalf among Men."

There was a pregnant pause as the residents of the settlement exchanged shocked and bewildered glances. Finally, Nûrzgrat broke the silence.

"She fuckin' him?"

Scowling with annoyance, Brytta backhanded the Uruk's chest.

"I apologize that I do not know more than this," Celduin said hastily, lest an answer to the leader's embarrassing question be required. "Regarding their... relations. Or their activities, for that matter. The debate among my folk is not whether the law is valid, only whether it should apply to _us_." He shook his head. "It is an unresolved question at present."

"Then... we can go, right?" Thakûf ventured cautiously. "Me and Gwen. See the world and such. Can we? If, you know, Men ain't huntin' us no more..."

"I wouldn't say that," Brytta replied. "Towns and villages that honor the King's law are _reluctant_ to blatantly defy it, but excuses are easily found, and justified. There is an exception that is open to broad interpretation, and that is that forces may be engaged if a threat is perceived. I'm certain the intent is that if a band of Orcs is preying on a town or its citizens, a countering force may be assembled and sent forth." Furrowing her brow, she snarled, "Berendir was our liaison for contracts, and the sort to accept a request to hunt down marauding Orcs, so-called by the town's council. More often than not, we found these 'marauders' were a bare handful, a family with young, spotted migrating north to escape Men."

"And he'd kill'em, wouldn't he?" Nûrzgrat growled low.

"Yes, he would," Brytta acknowledged stiffly. "And did. We did." Her voice diminished to a whisper. "I did." Closing her eyes and bowing her head, she went silent.

"Well, I don't like the idea," Brie said awkwardly. "I mean, we're relatively safe here, right? Nobody knows about us..."

"Elladan and Elrohir do," Sandy reminded her. "So do Galadriel and Celeborn. And Gandalf. I can't imagine they kept their mouths shut."

"You _are_ safe," Celduin insisted, his brow furrowed. "Those you mention... they have endeavored to... What little they have _said_ to any they deemed trusworthy..." He shook his head firmly. "This settlement is not widely known, nor will it be told of by any who know of it. You are safe."

Nûrzgrat eyed the _golug_ shrewdly, but kept his silence. Could just be his natural distrust, as Brytta pointed out to him when Celduin arrived that morning. 'Stop looking at him like he's going to cut your throat, Nûrzgrat,' she'd chided in an undertone, nudging his ribs with her elbow.

While he thoroughly enjoyed having a mate most of the time, there were some drawbacks. The biggest one was how well the damnable female could read his every thought, and wasn't afraid to call him out about them. He'd have liked at least a _little_ fear out of her, if only so he could peacefully enjoy murderous thoughts about the visiting _golug-hai_. It just wasn't fair.

"So... does this king person know about us?" Brie ventured.

"Indeed he does," the Elf nodded. "The sons of Elrond carried the news to him not long after they found you. It may well be that his knowledge of your folk is behind the establishment of the law. Or at least eased its passage." His brow furrowed. "But what Brytta says is true: there are some who deny Elessar's claim to the throne, and ignore the laws he passes." Gesturing to Thakûf, he added, "A youthful Orc in the company of a young lady may or may not be perceived as a situation warranting attack."

"I would simply tell whoever challenged us that we travel together as friends," Gwen shrugged. "What harm could there be in that?"

"I do not want to frighten you," Brytta said cautiously, "but there may be great harm in it." Eying the girl thoughtfully, she asked, "What would your friends from home have to say of your... friend?"

Gwen almost answered, but one glance at Thakûf's face stilled her tongue. He'd bowed his head and looked away, clearly humiliated by whatever he assumed she might have said. "They... would likely be... unkind," she said haltingly. "I see what you mean, Brytta." Rallying herself, she tried again. "But we wouldn't need to go to any towns. There is much in the wild world I wish to see. We could travel in the mountains, far from where Men have settled. That would be all right, wouldn't it?"

Her pleading gaze turned to her mother, who had stopped her sewing and was watching her daughter with concern. "I want to say no," Mae said quietly, "but... you are nearly grown and... it is more my fears for your well-being than... And... I suppose I do not want to lose you." She laughed humorlessly, and ducked her head to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

"I wouldn't let nobody hurt her," Thakûf reassured the healer. "Not Men or Orcs or nothin'. I... I can smell shit comin' at us from a fair bit off... Could avoid it... Hide or somethin'..."

"I've no doubt you would prove yourself a worthy champion to my daughter," Mae said, smiling wanly. "It is... not an easy thing, seeing your child grow beyond your reach before your eyes..." Squeezing her eyes shut, she bowed her head again.

"Mama," Gwen breathed, getting up to sit with Mae. She wrapped her arms around her mother and rested her head on Mae's shoulder. "We won't be gone forever. We'll just go out for... a fortnight. We won't go far and we'll come right back. I swear it. I just... I want to _see_ things."

"I know, dear," Mae nodded, patting her daughter's arm. "I know. It would be selfish of me to hold you back, and quite foolish to forbid it." Laughing a little, she added, "You are a stubborn girl. I've no doubt you would run off in the night if I tried."

"No I wouldn't!" Gwen cried, shaking her head. Then she paused, and tried to hide her smile. "Probably."

Taking a deep breath, Mae turned to face her daughter. "Oh... very well. You may accompany Thakûf _if the rest of the clan is in agreement_ ," she said, raising her voice over her daughter's excited squeals. " _Tomorrow_ , though. I would rather you didn't... just run off this moment." Huffing with impatience, Gwen stilled her tongue lest a careless, petulant word ruin all.

"What do you think, guys?" Sandy asked, her gaze flicking from one Uruk to the next.

Morkoth and Nûrzgrat exchanged glances, then looked to Ghrulagûrz. "Is he ready?" Morkoth asked, his brow arched.

Ghru shrugged. "Ready as he can be. Won't know till he tries."

Nodding, Nûrzgrat reached over to grip Thakûf's shoulder. "Remember what we taught you, boy."

"I will!" Thakûf crowed eagerly, his head bobbing.

"More important, though," the leader continued, his grip turning painful. "Don't make no mention of this place to _anyone_ , yuh got that? I don't care how bad they're beatin' you, don't betray us. There's little ones here. Don't say no names, either. Likely nobody knows any of us, but just to be safe... no names, all right? Names lead to questions, and questions'll get yer ass in trouble."

Wincing slightly, Thakûf nodded his understanding, and Nûrzgrat released him.

* * *

After a night of restless worry, Thakûf dithered over what clothes to pack, which knife he ought to keep on his hip as opposed to squirreled away in his pack, whether his thick blanket would fit in the bag or if he ought to just take the thinner one... Crowding those practical thoughts were panicky worries over what he'd do when alone with Gwen, what they'd talk about, if she'd let him kiss her again, how he'd keep her from hearing if he broke wind while he slept... What if he had to shit? That probably wasn't something he ought to be doing in front of her. He'd have to manage sneaking off for that sort of thing.

"Ain't fair," Razkaar grumbled, sitting petulantly on his bed with his arms crossed.

Without turning, Thakûf replied distractedly, "Don't know what you're gettin' mad about. Gotta hunt our own meat and cook it on our own. You still got the elders doin' all that for you." Pausing for a moment, he gazed off into space, eyes wide with fear. "Oh fuck. I got no idea how to cook nothin'."

"You ain't gonna be huntin'," Raz snorted caustically. "You just wanna mate with Gwen, and yuh can't do it here."

"That ain't...," Thak snarled defensively, rounding on his friend. Yet he faltered, his cheeks darkening. Huffing with embarrassment, he resumed his packing with jerking movements. "Yeah, I wanna, but I ain't gonna try. We... well, we sortuh talked about it and... she ain't... ready. Or somethin'."

Scowling, Raz growled, "Probably cause yer an Orc."

Thakûf slowly turned. "What's your problem?" he snapped. "You been a little shit to me for days, and I ain't done a fuckin' thing to you."

"Don't know what you mean," Raz muttered.

"Is it cause of me and Gwen?" Thak prodded. "Cause I thought... I mean, we ain't got much chance of findin' mates out here, and... Well, if things..." His voice faded into uncomfortable silence. He watched his dark-skinned, clawed hands twist a shirt. "In my gut, she's my mate, Raz. I like her a lot, and... I like bein' with her, just talkin' and such... but... this is different. It's sort of... I dunno... Like I ain't... _whole_... without her. Like... if somethin' happened, and she... went away or... got hurt... I can _feel_ this... this _thing_. It's..."

"Who gives a fuck?" Raz snarled. Launching himself off his bed, he stomped out of the shelter, slamming the door shut behind him.

Thakûf stared after his best friend, his mouth hanging open in shock.

* * *

"When are you due next?" Mae asked delicately. Gwen's brow furrowed.

"I... I don't know," she confessed. "The days just... I have no idea what day it is." She laughed nervously.

"Well, here," her mother said briskly. "Carry enough that you won't be left without should your moon time start while you are away." She neatly packed a handful of rags in Gwen's bag. "I know you won't be staying at inns or hostels, but if you should get lucky, I've added a small flask of soap for you."

"Thank you, Mama," Gwen said quietly, gnawing her lip.

"The nights are cold so take these woolens," Mae continued, holding the thick underclothes up briefly before placing them in the pack. "I hope you're back before the snow flies."

"It's months off yet, isn't it?" Gwen asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Mae replied. Pausing, she stared at the far wall for a moment. "Time passes so... differently here," she murmured.

"Mama?"

Shaking herself, Mae continued fitting clothing into the pack. "Don't mind me. It is a strange thing, living here. I have never been in a place so... detached from the world. In Archet, there was such attention paid to the day or the month or the year. The folk of this clan only know it has been two years since the War's end because winter has come twice since then." Chuckling, she shook her head. "I confess, it is both a relief and a worry at times. I feel I _should_ know what day it is, but I find I don't particularly care."

Gwen smiled and took her hand. "I won't be gone long, Mama. You'll hardly miss me."

Pulling her daughter into a tight embrace, Mae squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, "I shall count the days. A fortnight only. Promise?"

"Only a fortnight," Gwen reassured her. Brow furrowing, she whispered, "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"What if... Would you be angry with me if I...?"

Mae drew back, holding her daughter at arm's length and searching her face. "What is it?"

Embarrassed, Gwen's cheeks flushed brightly. "If I lay with Thakûf," she blurted. "Would you despise me?"

Smiling gently, Mae cupped her daughter's cheek. "We have talked about this before, haven't we? Of course I won't. It is your choice, dear. He is a good bo-.. a fine young man. I see great affection in his eyes when he looks at you. All I advise in this is that you be true to yourself. Be certain of your feelings for him, and don't give him something so precious until you are quite ready to part with it. There is no rushing these things."

Gwen nodded, reassured. "I do like him awfully, Mama. He... asked if I... Well, he called it mating. It's the same, isn't it?"

"Yes, I believe so," Mae said. "What did you tell him?"

Sighing, Gwen replied, "I told him I wasn't ready. He was very agreeable about it."

"As I said, he is a good man," Mae said approvingly. "And most respectful. I've no doubt he will treat you kindly on your journey."

* * *

Thakûf and Gwen stood together at the edge of the settlement, where the trees parted slightly to allow passage to the stream and beyond. They fidgeted under the advice and fussing of their elders. Both worried that if they didn't depart soon, minds would change, and they would be forbidden from going.

"Keep to the shadows," Morkoth instructed. "If you see signs of Men, travel at night. Thakûf, always wear your boots. A tracker won't know you're an Uruk if he can't see the shape of your feet."

"Aye, and make damn sure your camp's secure before you bed down," Nûrzgrat growled. "Up a tree ain't a bad option, if you can stomach it."

"Avoid badgers," Sandy advised semi-seriously. "They're pissy and don't taste all that good. And for heaven's sake, don't gut them in front of Gwen; she has issues with that."

"I'm getting better!" Gwen huffed indignantly.

"Sure you are," Sandy said indulgently, patting the girl's shoulder.

"I _am_ glad you two are going together," Brianna said feelingly. "I'll worry a lot less knowing Thakûf's around to protect you... and you're there to keep him out of trouble."

"What kinda trouble you think I'm gonna get into?" Thakûf asked with surprise.

"All sorts, if I know you," Sandy replied with a wink. Turning to Razkaar, scowling belligerantly next to her, Sandy said, "It's gonna be lonely in the hut with just Ilsa, isn't it?"

Shrugging noncommitally, the young Uruk continued to glare at Thakûf. His friend stared back at him with just as much hostility masking his face. Unsure what to do with what she was seeing flash between them, Sandy awkwardly shifted back to the matter at hand.

"You two be _very_ careful, okay?" Sandy insisted.

"Yes, do watch yourselves," Brytta agreed. "Keep your eyes and ears... and nose alert to anything and everything. And... if you can manage it, do not go south. Keep to the mountains east and north of here." She exchanged an uncomfortable, slightly embarrassed look with Nûrzgrat.

"Can we just _go_?" Thakûf asked impatiently. "Gonna lose the daylight."

"None'uh yer lip," Nûrzgrat warned. "Go on, then. Get movin'. Make sure you can find yer way back."

"Piss on trees," Ghru advised with a slight smile.

"Yeah, right," Thakûf growled as he turned, steering Gwen toward the stream.

"Stay away from caves!" Brytta called to their backs. Thakûf waved his acknowledgement without turning, and soon he and Gwen disappeared from sight.


	3. The Three Wise Me-... Uruks

"Reassure me that I did not just say my last words to her," Mae whispered, hugging herself. She could not take her eyes off the trees, though there was no one to see. Brianna put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," she told her. "They can't go far in only a couple of weeks, right? Come on; let's get breakfast handled." Brianna steered the worried healer toward the fire.

"Think someone oughta follow'em?" Nûrzgrat muttered to Ghru and Morkoth. He kept his voice low, his eyes flicking to Mae, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Thakûf would be insulted," Morkoth replied, shaking his head. "He knows how to hunt; I've seen to that."

"Good nose on him," Ghru added. "He knows our scents; anything he doesn't know, he'll avoid."

"Aye," Nûrzgrat nodded, slightly mollified. "Got a female to protect, though. Better not do nothin' stupid."

"It isn't him that worries me," Ghru said quietly, and his gaze shifted to Razkaar. The runt sat sullenly by the fire, tearing a stick apart and flipping the pieces into the flames. His tense posture and deliberate movements gave the impression that he was angry about something. Nodding toward Raz, Ghru said, "Brie is watching him."

"Why?" the leader asked. Now all three elder Uruks had their eyes on the younger male. Luckily, Razkaar's back was turned, and so he was unaware of their curious scrutiny.

Ghru shrugged. "I don't know. But she watches and worries. That is enough for me."

"Think he's, uh... havin' that... pubbery bullshit Thak got?" Nûrzgrat asked awkwardly.

Chuckling, Morkoth smiled. "Maybe. Look at him; have you ever seen him parted from Ilsa's side? Ever seen him here in the settlement when the sun has risen and adventure calls?"

Narrowing his eyes, Ghru glanced around. Mae and Brianna were fussing over a pot full of something at the fire; Sandy and Brytta were having a conversation. Of the younglings, Hontor was in Sandy's arms, and Ashmau... The son of Morkoth was sitting up, laughing and enjoying whatever game Ilsa was playing with him. The little girl seemed to have taken an interest in Ashmau now that he was more active.

"Ilsa plays with Ashmau," the burned Uruk observed. "She ignores Razkaar." Meeting Morkoth's eyes, he added with a slight smile, "And Thakûf plays with Gwen?"

Morkoth nodded. "No one plays with Razkaar."

Nûrzgrat darted a look between the two Uruks, his brow furrowing. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

"It was the same with Frûmâdûrz," Morkoth explained, and Nûrzgrat flinched, looking away. Gentling his tone, the tall Uruk went on, "You, Ghru, and I spent much of our time with Sandy and Brianna. We learned many things. Frû would not follow our lead, and so he suffered."

"So... yer sayin'... Raz is... needin' someone? And they've all kinda run off on'im?" Nûrzgrat ventured uncertainly. The ways of younglings were difficult for him to grasp, and he looked to the fathers for their wisdom.

"That is what I think," Morkoth agreed. "Ilsa took Thakûf's place when he grew too old for play. Now Ilsa looks to my son. Who will replace her?"

Nûrzgrat eyed the boy critically. Razkaar, he'd been told, had the physical maturity of a ten or twelve-year-old whiteskin. By the Uruk's measure, the runt was just that; a _runt_. He wouldn't have been given a sword and sent into battle. Were they still in Isengard, he could have been mistaken for a Goblin by size alone, quite frankly, and ordered about, given shit jobs, beaten frequently by cruel Uruks... But that was only _if_ he could pass for a _snaga_. He had far too much Uruk about him, too much _Man_ , to be mistaken for something other than what he was.

For that, he would not have been acceptable by Saruman's standards, for Saruman's purposes. He would not have lived through the first inspection by the wizard that they all endured upon waking. Razkaar, for being 'imperfect,' would have been killed long ago.

"Maybe we oughta start him, then," Nûrzgrat said thoughtfully. "Teach him the sword. Take him huntin'. He's a bit small and weak, but..." Shrugging, he ground to a halt and looked to his fellows for their thoughts.

Morkoth remained silent for a moment, considering. "With one of us beside him, he would be safe."

Ghru nodded. "He's brave. I remember."

"Aye," Nûrzgrat agreed, recalling how the little runt stood down a pack of _golug-hai_ and a wizard to protect the clan. "A brave one. Up to us to keep'im from being so brave he's stupid, eh?" he chuckled.

"Indeed," Morkoth smiled. Sighing, he added, "That is our duty, after all."

* * *

"It is a strange thing," Brytta said quietly, her eyes on the peaceful face of Hontor in Sandy's arms. The redhead gently rocked from side to side, humming a little to keep the infant soothed so far from her parents. Those big hazel eyes had wandered from Sandy to Brytta at the sound of her voice.

"What's strange?"

"How... beautiful they are." The former Orc hunter frowned uncomfortably. "I never truly _saw_ them."

"Things were different then," Sandy replied. "I got the impression from... all my sources, that Orcs aren't really considered people in the sense that you and I are." She glanced toward the males huddled together nearby and sighed. "I honestly couldn't tell you why Brianna and I felt differently, other than... well, they _acted_ like people, if that makes sense. We didn't see them in a battle or something. We saw them staggering away from a disaster area. We saw them staring down the barrel of extinction as a race." Laughing a little, she met Brytta's eyes. "Even then, they treated us with respect. They treated _you_ the same way. I'm sure that was a shocker."

"It was," Brytta agreed. "Considering all I've..." Faltering, she bowed her head. "Why can I not... forget? He has forgiven me, and I him, yet..."

"Hey," Sandy said gently, "a friend of my father's used to say, 'Shit don't stop stinkin', you just get used to the smell.'" Shrugging sheepishly, she went on, "Gross, I know. He was in the Navy. They're... a breed apart, I swear. Anyway, the point is, what you all used to do to each other was awful and terrible, and it will _always_ be awful and terrible. You just have to... keep on going, you know? It'll take time, but that's one commodity we have in abundance here."

Brytta nodded, then reached out to lightly caress Hontor's cheek. A slight smile smoothed the woman's worried face. "Her skin is not as rough as..." Swallowing, she went quiet.

"I think they get tougher as they grow," Sandy explained. "You couldn't tell the difference between his butt and his face, Ashmau's skin was so soft. Now, though... he's getting a little tougher." Giggling, she added, "I don't have to pay as close attention anymore when I'm changing his diapers in the dark."

"Was he difficult to carry?" Brytta asked, blushing at such a forward question. "I apologize if that's..."

Sandy shrugged. "No worries. A bit, yes. He was a big boy. Thank god Galadriel was here when he decided he wanted out. Apparently she knew I was about to blow baby all over the settlement by keeping an eye out in her Mirror." She laughed. "Here I thought she only got riddles and nonsense out of that thing."

"Yet she did not come when Hontor was born," Brytta said, a hint of a chill in her voice.

"On the other hand," Sandy pointed out, "if she was paying _really_ close attention, she saw Mae coming. I'd say she was saved a trip."

"Of course," Brytta conceded. Then she relaxed. "Forgive me. I do not come from a family so... well-acquainted with Elves. Their ways are difficult to fathom."

"They've been in and out of here for years like nobody's business," Sandy said. "I _still_ don't know what the hell their deal is. How they seem to know what we need all the time. It's weird. I can't imagine Galadriel is so bored in her palace or whatever that she can waste all her time watching _us_."

Brytta smiled. "I imagine, living so long as Elves are known to do, anything out of the ordinary would capture their interest. This," she said, gesturing about them, "must surely be considered 'out of the ordinary.'"

"Amen to that," Sandy laughed. A comfortable quiet passed between them for several minutes before Sandy ventured, "Would you like to hold her?"

"Oh, I couldn't," Brytta demurred, shaking her head. "I do not know how. I am frightfully awful with children. I fear I would drop her." Yet she gazed guiltily at the little one, gnawing her lip, remembering...

"Pssh," Sandy said dismissively. "An extra pair of hands helps a lot, and I just lost my best babysitter. I imagine once Mae and Gwen's new house is finished, you and Nûrzgrat'll be back in business." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Brytta blushed. "Sooner or later, you know. You keep going at it, and there'll be consequences," Sandy warned with a wink.

Rolling her eyes, Brytta couldn't help laughing. "I enjoy him... more than would likely be thought proper."

"I'm glad as hell you do," Sandy said seriously. "He is a fantastically good man. I know he'll make a great dad, too. All these kids love him, even if he's a little gruff at times. I've heard Ilsa call him 'nunca Nurz' a lot, but now that Ash is saying 'da,' I expect she'll grab that one herself."

Brytta nodded. "He is quite smitten with that little girl. Just as Ghru is with Hontor."

"Dads and their little girls," Sandy sighed, reminded of her own father. "I hope this one..." Her hand went to her belly briefly, then she blushed and hastily removed it. She adjusted Hontor in her arms a little to hide her gesture, but it was in vain.

Brows arching, Brytta whispered, "Are you...?"

Lowering her voice, Sandy said, "Don't say anything. It's just a hunch. A weird sort of... I think I might be, but I don't know for sure. So don't say anything. I don't want to get Morkoth's hopes up if I'm wrong."

A teasing smirk twitched Brytta's mouth. "Well, if holding a child is all it takes to ensure issue, then give her to me."

Laughing, Sandy shifted Hontor carefully into Brytta's arms. "Mind the head; you'll want to rest her in the crook... Yeah, like that. Quite an armful, isn't she?"

A lump formed in Brytta's throat as she gazed down at the infant. Only a month old, and already reaching up to touch this new face brought so close. Brytta found tears forming, and she sighed.

"Careful, there," Sandy grinned. Her own joy at the prospect of bearing another child of Morkoth's hid all but the look of like happiness on Brytta's face from Sandy's eyes. "I think I just heard you fire off an egg with both barrels."

* * *

"It's kind of the same, I think," Brianna said as she spooned porridge into a wooden bowl and set it on a small table. It was crudely built but serviceable, and a reminder for the Uruk-hai, at least, that they were not completely dependent upon the generosity of the Elves. "When I left for college, my parents acted like I'd just died."

Mae frowned. "What is college?"

"It's... oh hell," she muttered, sucking her finger where hot porridge dripped.

"Let me," the healer interjected, and took over serving. "Is it... a far away place?"

Brianna shrugged. "It can be. It's a kind of school, only for really advanced study. The one I went to was several states away from where my parents lived." Noticing the other woman's increasing confusion, Brianna elaborated, "About a thousand miles."

"Oh my!" Mae exclaimed, pausing with a dripping spoon held over the pot. "You went so far alone?"

"Well, sort of alone," Brie shrugged, and Mae resumed filling bowls. "I had a few friends who went as well."

"Was Sandy among them?"

"No," Brie replied, shaking her head. "We met after that. She went to a completely different college, a lot closer to her home. To be honest, I don't think her dad would have let her move _that_ far away, not then. He was a little pissed when she moved to the same town as my parents after graduation, instead of going back home. That's how we met." Brie grinned, remembering those days. "We were so damn different," she murmured, laughing a little.

Shaking herself, Brie glanced over at Raz for a moment, and her brow furrowed. "It's really hard saying good bye to someone you care about. Sandy's dad had done all he could to keep a really awful guy from taking another swing at his little girl, only to have her over-compensate the restraining order and leave the state entirely." Shrugging, she looked back at Mae and added, "But he could be a cop anywhere, so he followed her."

"Was this... I confess, by your coloring and complexion, I have had a difficult time guessing where you came from," Mae said, sitting on the log next to Brie. "Are your parents worried for you, I wonder?"

Sighing, Brie said, "I'm sure they are. I wouldn't be surprised if they were still... looking for us." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The subject had never once come up, and now... Well, she and her daughter were members of the clan; continuing to keep such a big secret would be deceitful.

"Sandy and I aren't from this world," Brie stated evenly. Mae blinked at her, confusion in her face. "Well, that's one explanation. The other is that we _are_ , but we came back in time from some ridiculously far future. Regardless, the place we came from... _knows_ about this world, this time. What happened, what _will_ happen. Unfortunately, neither Sandy or I were... well-informed on that subject. Aware that the knowledge existed, but not really... knowledgeable."

A slight smile curved Brie's mouth, for Mae's was hanging open. "Yeah, it's a little... It's pretty rough, I know. Every now and then, both of us kind of... feel a little panicky. We had lives before we came here; we had things we were supposed to do, things we _wanted_ to do. We had families..." Her gaze drifted to Ghrulagûrz, chatting in low voices with the other two males. It wasn't something he often did, preferring her company or none at all. She felt inexplicably pleased that he was spending time with the others. It had been two years; surely he must trust them now?

Again, she shook herself. "We had families," she repeated. "My parents, Sandy's dad... they don't know what happened to us. We literally disappeared from our world without a trace. Both of us being only children in our families, I'm sure our parents took it hard. At least when I was in college, I could have driven those thousand miles home to see them, or they could have come to see me. It wasn't like... I'd fallen off the planet..."

Tears threatened, and Brianna bowed her head, sniffling quietly. Glad of the distraction from such a stunning revelation, Mae swiftly embraced the distraught woman.

"There now," she soothed. "You are here among friends, with a... a _new_ family. Surely that must comfort you."

"It does," Brianna nodded. She wiped her eyes with the kerchief Mae offered. "It's just... sometimes..."

"Grieve when you need to," Mae murmured, rocking Brie in her arms. "I am here."

Brianna indulged herself in a motherly embrace for a few minutes before straightening. "Anyway, I'm glad you're more worried about something other than Thakûf happening to Gwen. He really is a good boy, and I know he won't let anything happen to her."

"Strange as it is, I agree with you," Mae replied, an ironic smile on her face. "Were she in the company of a man like Serondaen, I would fear abuse at his hands. To imagine even a month ago that I might be _relieved_ that her suitor is an Orc..." She laughed, shaking her head in wonder. "They have shared a kiss, you know."

Brie's brow arched. "Really?" Huffing a little, she smirked, "Well, _that's_ a huge secret they've managed to keep from the rest of us! Did you catch them at it or something?"

"No, I have not borne witness to their intimacies," Mae smiled. "When he told me, he seemed to fear I would do him harm for having taken such a liberty with my daughter. In truth, I was more fearful that he'd..." Faltering, she looked away. That night still weighed heavily on her mind, the ugliness she saw and experienced first hand still causing shudders. "I was relieved by an innocent kiss, when my thoughts had conjured horrors..."

Brianna reached for Mae's hand. "I don't think there's a dishonest bone in Thakûf's body. Nor is he the kind of boy... _man_ who would hurt an innocent woman."

Mae nodded. "You are right; he is a man. Perhaps he bears the appearance of an Orc, but he is a man. A _young_ man, at that. One who is stricken with his first love." Smiling, she met Brie's gaze. "I believe Gwen is likewise afflicted."

"Well, if they can keep their hands to themselves long enough to talk," Brianna giggled, "this little trip could go one of two ways: either they'll hate each other, or they'll be more than just 'in love.'"

"Indeed," Mae agreed with a laugh. "Time is the true test, isn't it?"

"I don't mind saying I'm pulling for the latter," Brie pointed out. "Which one are you hoping for?"

"That is an easy answer," Mae beamed. "My hope is..."

"Get in the longhouse!" Nûrzgrat suddenly roared, startling the women. "Grab them whelps; move it!"

Brie rose swiftly to her feet and accepted Hontor into her arms as Sandy sprinted by to collect Ashmau.

"What is happening?" Mae asked fearfully.

"Nûrzgrat has picked up the scent of an Orc coming," Brytta growled fiercely, her sword already drawn. "Take Raz and Ilsa into the longhouse."

Sandy barely had Ashmau clamped to her bosom, an arm around a trembling Raz, and her sights set on the longhouse, when the trees between her and Brie's shelters parted. Brianna froze, clutching her daughter tight enough to urge a whimper from the child. Ilsa was collared by Mae and held close before the little girl could make a dash toward her safe place. All stood trembling behind the fierce Uruk males and Brytta, their swords out and feet apart in preparation for a fight, as the three figures emerged.

Two Elven men with grim expressions stepped into the clearing. Though their weapons were sheathed and they held up a hand in a gesture of peace, they each had a grip on an arm of a staggering, dark-skinned, brutish creature between them. Nûrzgrat slowly lowered his sword.

"What the fuck's _he_ doin' here?" the leader snarled. He waved down Morkoth and Ghru, who lowered their own weapons though both remained alert.

In answer, the Elves forced the Orc to his knees. They only allowed him a moment to register who stood in front of him, his expression changing from defeated to shocked, before one of the Elves planted a booted foot in the Orc's back and pushed him over. The Orc fell flat on his face with a groan.

Brytta stepped up beside Nûrzgrat, staring at the beaten Orc. His face looked quite like it had sustained a lengthy pummeling, for black blood caked his nose and ran down his chin. Both red-hued eyes were swollen and barely open. Yet they were clearly open enough for the Orc to recognize Nûrzgrat.

"What is this all about?" Brytta asked suspiciously. "Why bring him here?"

"He knows the whereabouts of Faelur," one of the Elves announced. "We cannot extract this knowledge from him ourselves; we hoped you might have better luck."

"What do you mean... he knows...," Mae breathed, fear stealing her voice. She clutched Ilsa's shoulders tightly, making the little girl squirm. "What...?"

"What do you mean by 'whereabouts'?" Morkoth growled, his gaze shifting to the Orc. "He was bound for Rohan, then Gondor."

"I am afraid he did not make it out of Dunland," the second Elf said delicately. Mae whimpered and stared at him with wide eyes.

The Elf turned to Mae and bowed formally. "Apologies, madam. I am Faronhim, and this is Bronnaeg." His smooth complexion was slightly marred by a look of impatience clearly directed at his partner. "This Orc was seen in the company of others who... who captured your husband. He has been captive for weeks and we have only just caught up to one of those responsible..."

"Wait a fuckin' second," Nûrzgrat interrupted. Glaring at the prone Orc, he snarled, "Orcs got'im, and you're sayin' _he_ was with'em?"

"Yes," Bronnaeg replied coldly. "According to him, the man is still alive."

Nûrzgrat and Brytta exchanged looks of dread. "Shagal and Fulak," Brytta growled, her brow furrowing angrily. "It must be them."

Gripping his Elven sword tightly, Nûrzgrat spat, " _Fuck_."


	4. Oops... Didn't We Mention?

Sandy was the first one to recover from the shock and find the words to express what was on everyone's mind.

"How the  _hell_  do you know their names?"

Brytta's face froze as she met Sandy's gaze. Then she darted a look at Nûrzgrat. He was no help; the embarrassed guilt was writ so large upon his expressive face, none could possibly miss it.

"I know you used to be an Orc hunter, Brytta," Sandy snapped. "Excuse me for not realizing you asked for their  _names_  first!"

"I did not know them from before!" Brytta cried defensively. Feeling cornered and abandoned, for her suddenly cowardly mate was actually taking a step back from the center of attention, Brytta growled, "The truth is... we were beset by this one and his fellows... not two days' journey from here. We were... captured and held for... I do not know how many hours."

Now every head turned and every eye of the clan focused upon Nûrzgrat. Again, Sandy spoke for them all.

"Why didn't you fucking  _say_  something?!" she all but shrieked in a fury.

"Nûrzgrat," Morkoth snarled, "there are Orcs a few leagues from our settlement and you said  _nothing_?"

"Gwen... and Thakûf...," Mae breathed, her eyes wide with fear. She slowly lowered herself onto a log, trembling from head to toe.

"We told'em not to go south!" Nûrzgrat barked defensively. "Orcs keep a territory; they go north, they won't get in no trouble."

Brianna edged closer to the leader, her eyes imploring. "Nûrzgrat," she said tightly, "why didn't you tell us? Are we... are our  _children_  in any danger?"

He'd never been a match for Brianna. Crumpling, Nûrzgrat muttered, "Don't know. Been keepin' an eye out... me and Brytta. Didn't think... they don't know where we came from, or where we were goin' to. Figured... if we saw'em..."

"You'd... take care of it," she supplied. "And we'd be none the wiser. Is that it?"

"Yeah," he conceded, bowing his head.

"What happened to you?" Brianna asked urgently.

"It's  _over_ ," he snarled. "Over and fuckin' done with."

Brianna shook her head. "No, it's not. It's not over. Not if one of them is in our settlement, and they have Faelur. It is  _not_   _over_."

"But... they let you go," Mae breathed, raising her streaming eyes. "They... they did you no harm and let you go. Didn't they?"

Nûrzgrat looked away, avoiding her gaze. Brytta sighed and said, "Not... much harm. Generally speaking. But Shagal struck him..."

"Let it fuckin' go," Nûrzgrat snapped, glowering at Brytta and curling his lip in a threatening manner. She glared at him.

"It  _frightened_  me," she retorted. "I'd never seen anything like it." Turning to Brianna and Sandy, and pointedly ignoring her bristling mate, Brytta went on, "Shagal used a cudgel to keep him subdued. After we were released, he suffered... an attack of some sort. He collapsed in a faint and his body bucked wildly. He had no memory of it after."

"Oh my god," Brianna breathed, looking at Nûrzgrat in shock. Sandy was at a loss for words. "You had a seizure?"

"That... uh... that what you call it?" the leader muttered uncertainly. Recovering quickly, he huffed, "Wanna know why we didn't say nothin'? Cause it was fuckin' _embarrassin'_ , all right? Took us  _both_  unawares. Didn't smell'em comin', couldn't keep'em from doin' whatever the fuck they wanted. They coulda killed'er, coulda raped the fuck outta her, right in front of me, and I couldn't... I couldn't..." Squeezing his eyes shut, Nûrzgrat looked away. His face twitched with the effort to push back the remembered helplessness and fear. "She was my fuckin'  _mate_. I couldn't... do...  _nothin_ '," he snarled tightly, his jaw clenched.

"It was terrifying," Brytta said quietly. She approached Nûrzgrat and touched his arm. "I thought all my debts had come due. Had it not been for Nûrzgrat..." He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, and she smiled a little. "I could not have faced it, could not have  _borne_  it, without you."

"While this is a lovely moment, I'm sure," Sandy interjected tightly, "the fact remains that these... Orc friends of yours have Faelur. I'm willing to postpone the ass-reaming you deserve for not telling us about them, if you'll  _kindly_  share what you  _do_  know. Is Faelur in danger?"

"Yes, please," Mae pleaded, her eyes darting between Brytta and Nûrzgrat. "Would they hurt him?"

Growling deep, Nûrzgrat marched over to the prone Orc playing opossum on the ground and dragged him up to his knees by the hair. "Why don'tcha ask  _him_?"

Mae forced herself to step closer and look down into the bruised and bloody face. Red eyes peeked through swollen folds of flesh. This close, she could see neat slices made about his ears and neck, from which black blood seeped. His lower lip trembled as his breaths huffed fearfully.

"Tell me, please," she whispered. "Are they hurting him?"

He didn't answer for a moment. The Orc's eyes darted up to Nûrzgrat holding his head, then Brytta standing imperiously at Mae's side with her arms crossed over her chest. He feared their wrath more than that of the  _golug-hai_.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. "Aye, they's hurtin'im. Sendin' Nardrît intuh holes with the screamin'."

Crying out in dismay, the woman swayed. Brytta caught and steadied her before she could fall.

"You damn well better tell us where they're holding him," Sandy snarled, stomping up closer. She'd quite forgotten she still held Ashmau; her son was cleaved sleepily and obliviously to her shoulder, uncaring what his parents were up to. The Orc's battered face softened, and his brows rose.

"Eh," he said quietly, a slight smile twitching his mouth, "that what a  _baalak_  looks like, then?"

Startled, Sandy withdrew slightly, hugging her boy closer. "What... I don't know what that means."

"It means 'half-breed,'" Ghru snarled. He glared at the Orc as he put a protective arm about Brianna and a large hand on Hontor, just to be certain of their safety.

"Aaaww," the Orc crooned, struggling to stand so he could see the whelp better. Unsure what game this was, Nûrzgrat let him rise, but grabbed his arm instead. "Kraibûf done give me one'uh them girl pups a year ago. That's a lovely one, that is." Grinning up at Ghru's uncertain frown, he added, "Got her da in her a bit, I see."

"Shut yer noise," Nûrzgrat snarled, jerking the Orc back. Turning his fury on the Elves, the leader growled, "Had at him, did you? What'd he say?"

Faronhim avoided Nûrzgrat's provocative glare. "I confess we... we have not the... skills or... means to..."

"You have no stomach for torture," Morkoth said flatly. Though his voice was even and seemed benign, the Elf flinched nonetheless. He winced further as the Uruk added, "And you believe we do."

"Don't you?" Bronnaeg challenged.

"Got plenty of stomach for butcherin' smartass  _golug-hai_ ," Nûrzgrat retorted. The Elf merely lifted his chin and stared down his nose at the Uruk leader with a smirk, clearly unimpressed. Leveling a clawed finger, Nûrzgrat growled, "Watch that shit,  _golug_. We put up with yuh for the females' sake. You lot ain't welcome."

"Nûrzgrat," Brianna admonished quietly.

"Wait a second," Sandy said, closing her eyes for a moment to think. She held up a finger as though the gesture helped her do so. Then she opened her eyes and pointed at Faronhim. "How do you know Faelur came from here?"

Unexpectedly, the Elf's eyes widened, and he darted a guilty look at his partner. Bronnaeg glanced heavenward and looked away with annoyance. Swallowing, Faronhim moistened his lips nervously. "We... that is to say, the residents of this settlement are known by name and... and face... to all of the Lord and Lady's folk. We knew of..."

"No, you didn't," Sandy interrupted, shaking her head. "Unless you've got photographs or really damn good paintings, you can't know what we all look like.  _We've_ never met  _you_. This is the first time you've ever been here. Faelur was only here for a week or so. How could you have known who Faelur was  _and_  where he came from?"

"Shocking as it seems," Bronnaeg sighed, "they appear to be capable of reason."

"Morkoth, fetch me a blade," Nûrzgrat warned, glaring at Bronnaeg. "Ain't fed on Elf before. I'm thinkin' I got a taste for it all of a sudden."

" _Nûrzgrat!_ " Brianna and Brytta snapped in unison.

He didn't appear remotely contrite. "Answer the fuckin' question,  _golug_!" Nûrzgrat barked.

Though the leader's ire was directed at Bronnaeg, the Elf refused to provide an answer. Faronhim took a deep breath and said haltingly, "In accordance with the Lady's wishes, we... have watched you. Your... comings and goings. We know you... and Faelur... because we have seen you... here. And... in the vicinity." He closed his eyes, anticipating an explosion.

Nûrzgrat's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment; his eyes twitched and blinked in shock. All he could muster in response at first was a strained, "What?"

"You have spied on us?" Morkoth asked incredulously, his brow deeply furrowed. "For how long?"

Treading carefully, Faronhim replied quietly, "Ever since... you were discovered here by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel." His voice diminished further as he concluded, "Two years."

"Two years," Nûrzgrat repeated tightly. "Two... fucking...  _years_. How..." He had trouble breathing as the fury built. "You... how... Two  _years_?!" he finally roared, his voice echoing off the cliff face behind the settlement. Hontor whimpered in Brianna's arms.

"Please," Faronhim interjected, doing his best to stave off any act of violence. The leader seemed about to come apart, he trembled so. "We have not watched every movement within your settlement, I assure you. We keep a respectful distance. It is not your activities we are concerned about."

"We've no interest in them, if that is any comfort," Bronnaeg pointed out, earning another impatient huff from his partner.

"Not much of one," Sandy snapped, exchanging an angry look with Brianna. "Back where we come from, that sort of shit gets your ass arrested. Assuming you weren't hiding up a tree taking pictures of us while we bathed, just what in hell  _were_  you doing?"

"Madam," Faronhim said with what dignity he could still claim under the circumstances, "we most assuredly did not witness your private ablutions. We are _marchwardens_ , not common soldiers. Our purpose is to guard your folk, not... specifically...  _spy_  on you." He glanced at Morkoth, whose frown only deepened.

"What are you guarding us from?" the tall Uruk snarled, folding his arms over his chest.

As if the light dawned, Brytta answered for the Elf. "Orc hunters," she said. "That's right, isn't it? You guard us from Orc hunters?"

Faronhim nodded with relief. "Yes, we do. Their like, or any who wander too close. We divert their path; give them reason to be elsewhere." Glancing at Razkaar and Ilsa in turn, he added, "We have been especially watchful of your younger ones, to ensure they did not stray beyond the perimeter."

"How'd you do that?" Raz asked. The little girl, once loosed from Mae's grip, fled to Razkaar. He huddled with her by the fire, feeling inexplicably relieved though tensions were high all around him.

"Distractions," the Elf replied. "A sound, a scent. Something of interest that will turn your steps in another direction."

"What about us?" Morkoth growled. "We hunt far and wide. Do you distract us as well?"

Shaking his head, Faronhim said, "No. We... recognize that... you require a broad range for hunting, and do not hinder you. It is only the young ones we are mindful of, for they are more vulnerable." Smiling a little, he said, "You and your fellows are older and wiser, more skilled in battle should you encounter... trouble."

"What do you do when Orc hunters approach?" Brytta asked, her eyes narrowing.

"We give them reason to be elsewhere, as Faronhim has already said," Bronnaeg replied. Noting further confusion, he sighed. "We use similar methods: sound and shadow, mostly, for scent has little effect on Men. An implication of something sinister and inexplicable is usually sufficient to urge their steps in another direction." Shrugging and smirking, he added, "Simplicity is all that is required, for Men are simple minded."

"Right," Sandy snapped, beginning to see Nûrzgrat's point of view with this Elf at least. "I guess every race has at least  _one_  asshole. Congratulations: you win the crown for yours." Bronnaeg merely shrugged.

"How many of you fuckers are out there?" Nûrzgrat snapped, finding his voice again. "Just you two?"

Faronhim had known the Orcs wouldn't take this news well, and so didn't bristle particularly at Nûrzgrat's words. "There are, at any one time, a dozen of us, ranged in a perimeter about your settlement. We take it in shifts, a month or so at a time."

"A  _dozen_?" Nûrzgrat barked. "How the fuck have we not smelled your filthy  _golug_  stench all this time?" Brianna winced and rubbed her eyes, but decided not to say anything. There really wasn't anything she  _could_  say to stem the tide of Nûrzgrat's anger. For once, it was entirely justified.

"Our folk have hunted Orcs for thousands of years," Bronnaeg sneered. "It is no hardship to fool an Orc's senses.  _Yours_ , being less acute than your cousins', are even easier to fool."

"This... 'perimeter' you keep," Brytta growled, laying a hand on Nûrzgrat's arm to stay his indignant retort, "how wide would you say it is? Will I learn that while my fellows were being _butchered_  in defense of Mae's family, you and your 'guards' stood idly by, doing  _nothing_?"

"I assure you," Faronhim cried desperately, "that had any of us seen such a thing, we would have come to your aid. I have not heard any who saw aught but Nûrzgrat returning with the four of you. But what aid we might have given... I cannot say. We are spread thin. As it was, when I saw Faelur taken, I was alone and could not safely aid him without endangering his life in the attempt. I hastened to the nearest of my folk to seek assistance, but by the time Bronnaeg and I returned..." He gestured helplessly. "They had gone, leaving no trace. We have stood vigil, patrolling the area in hopes one would emerge and so lead us to where they held him, or at least give some news of his fate. It was weeks before we caught sight of this one."

"You say... he is alive," Mae said shakily. "This Orc... has said as much."

"Yes," Faronhim nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "We have no reason to doubt that, at least. What we cannot seem to urge him to divulge is the location of these caves in which Faelur is being held." As though remembering the earlier conversation, Faronhim risked all by turning to Nûrzgrat. "Do you know where the entrance lies? You were taken by them yourself; did you note...?"

" _No_ ," Nûrzgrat barked, and the Elf recoiled. "We were blindfolded goin' in, and knocked senseless goin' out. I got no idea how you get into their den." Rounding on the Orc, he once more grabbed the shorter one by the hair and forced the Orc to look him in the eye. "You're gonna tell me, though, ain'tcha?"

The Orc gave no answer. Though he trembled in fear, and pain inflicted by the Elves made him twitch and flinch, he said nothing.

"Please," Mae said, approaching the Orc again. "Tell us. He was my mate. We want him back. That is all. Can you not help us? Please?"

Looking into the woman's shimmering eyes, the Orc faltered in his defiance. In truth, a great deal of his bluster had been quelled at the Elves' hands. More importantly, his thoughts were strongly with another female who meant a great deal to him, one he feared never to see again.

"Can't," he muttered, his tone pleading. " _Golug-hai_ 'll come and kill all of'em. Even the little'uns. 'S'what they do."

"Do you have a mate?" Mae asked. "And... little ones?"

"Aye," he nodded. "Kraibûf. She's... she's whelpin' another'un for me. From me." His swollen lips trembled. "Ain't gonna see it come now, am I?"

The healer shook her head. "He was my mate. We have... our own... whelp. Can't you... won't you  _please_...?"

Nûrzgrat met Brytta's eyes, and she nodded. Firming his resolve, the leader interrupted, "What's yer name, boy?"

Flinching as though the question were an attack, the Orc muttered, "Burbur."

"Oh yes," Brytta said. "I remember now. Akhûna called you by that name."

"And Akhûna is...?" Sandy growled, but Nûrzgrat held up a warning hand.

"Here's the way it's gonna go, Burbur," Nûrzgrat said evenly. "You're gonna lead us in, you got that? You help us get him out, and we'll let you go. Understand?"

Burbur shook his head vigorously. "I  _can't_ ," he protested. "I lead a couple  _golug-hai_  into the den and Akhûna'd skin me alive."

"You won't be leading  _them_ ," Brytta clarified, shooting a hostile look at the pair of Elves. She wasn't convinced that they hadn't simply ignored what befell her and her fellows. "You will lead  _us_ : Nûrzgrat and I. We have a score to settle with Shagal and Fulak."

"You ain't... you ain't gonna hurt the little'uns, are yuh?" Burbur begged fearfully, his eyes darting between the two.

"I swear to you," Brytta said firmly, "we won't lay a hand on them. We only have business with those who are doing Faelur harm." Glaring at Bronnaeg, she added, "I trust our clanmates will see to it these...  _Elves_  do not follow us."

"It's just them two, ain't it?" Nûrzgrat growled. "Shagal and Fulak, right? Nobody else?"

Burbur shook his head. "You're gonna kill'em, ain't yuh?"

Nûrzgrat might have nodded in the affirmative, but Brytta laid a hand on his arm. "We make no promises, one way or another. Show us the entrance, guide our way in, and we shall see what must be done."


	5. Just Can't Wait to Get on the Road Again

"Stop your grousing," Brytta admonished impatiently. Casting a frustrated look at her mate, she added, "If you have something to say, _say it_." He opened his mouth to speak, but she overrode him loudly. "In common, if you please." Nûrzgrat's shoulders sagged.

"Wanna make'em pay," he growled. "For every time they touched yuh, for every time I got knocked into a wall, for every time that cunt grabbed my cock. Wanna beat the fuck outta them both." Noting what she was slipping into her pack, he snapped, "Don't go bringin' nothin' like that! Thievin' little fuckers'll have it from you."

"You sound like the Men I used to hunt with," she said accusingly, carefully cushioning her change of clothing around the engraved silver hand mirror.

"Whattayou wanna bring frillies for?" Nûrzgrat grumbled, not particularly pleased with being compared to Orc hunters at the moment. Preparing for a trip back to that den reminded him of what was taken from him. What was almost taken...

"It's all I'm taking with me," she explained, then glared at his smirk. "For seeing around corners, not fussing with my looks," she snapped. "One never knows when such things will become necessary. The tunnels I recall had many blind corners. Perhaps you can smell an Orc coming, but I cannot. What if we are separated?"

"Ain't gonna let that happen," Nûrzgrat swore quickly. "I'll die before they get you away from me."

"Then I shall need every advantage," she replied, her tone softening. "Nûrzgrat, we go to bring Faelur home. He _depends_ upon us. We should not let our... need to avenge ourselves cloud our judgement, or rob him of this one chance. He shan't have another."

"They told us what he did," the Uruk snarled furiously. "I say, leave his ass where it is. Gettin' some comeuppance from a female's what he needs. Give'im some perspective." Nûrzgrat's smirk was malicious, and likely the sort of expression he wore comfortably once upon a time. Brytta didn't like it.

Glowering at her mate, she said steadily, "This is not Isengard, Nûrzgrat. We do not torture folk who do us wrong. It is _Mae_ who urges his reclamation, and she was the one abused. Does that not tell you something?"

He snorted, going back to selecting the weapons he would take: daggers for his boots chief among them. One in each. A spare in the pack. One strapped to his back. That plainer Elven sword on his hip. Maybe he'd get the other one back while he was in that den. It was ridiculously fancy, but it was _his_.

"Tells me Mae's gotten her head knocked," he muttered. "Tells me she's addled, wantin' that bastard back after what he did."

Huffing impatiently, Brytta interjected, "She doesn't want him _back_. Not as husband _or_ lover. She merely wishes to spare him pain. She is a good woman; she wouldn't hurt anyone, even one who had done her a mischief."

"Depends on the 'mischief,' don't it?"

"You're reaching, Nûrzgrat," she chided. "Mae was married to Faelur for twenty years. A certain... closeness is formed when two people are in company for so long. If she'd hated him, she would have allowed Morkoth and Ghru to slay him on the spot, as they were intent to do."

Nûrzgrat sat heavily on their bed, leaning on his knees. "I got no problem with goin' in there and draggin' the baggage out," he said quietly. "It just... That kinda thinkin's what... Not respectin'..." He gazed imploringly at his mate. "Made it easy to do what we did."

Nodding, Brytta sat beside him and took hold of his hand. "I know. It is not easy for me, either. I think back to my days in disguise, having to still my tongue when Men spoke of their wives or lovers in such terms as to..." Clenching her jaw, she closed her eyes and sought to calm herself. "It was disgusting. I found it difficult to respect _them_ , if they said such things of those they _should_ respect. One or two even spoke casually of the sort of abuse Mae received, as though their wives required such treatment to be acceptable to them." She shook her head sadly. "Only a common enemy made me their comrade in arms. Had I the nerve to indulge my true will, I might have slain them, or looked the other way when they were in dire straits."

"Yeah," Nûrzgrat nodded. "Can't tell yuh how many piles of shit I had to run with and fight with and not kill. Could'uh filled the pits with all the _pushdug_ filth that raped Ghru over the years."

Brytta squeezed his hand. "I hear him at night," she whispered. "They stalk him even now, so long after..."

"Aye," he nodded. "I guess... that Faelur's... he's likely gettin' the same. Suppose... he weren't no better or worse'n... one of us, when yuh think about it."

"Not hardly," she agreed. "Yet he does not deserve what he endures, any more than Ghru did. We have the means to reach him, and the strength to free him, Nûrzgrat," Brytta told him. "If an opportunity comes to pay Shagal and Fulak in kind for their deeds against us, it must not be overshadowed by the payment they owe Faelur. Their debt to him is greater."

"Thought it was fuckin' funny," Nûrzgrat snarled, his ire rising at the reminder of their ordeal. "Funniest thing they ever heard, me bondin' to you. Thought it was so fuckin' _funny_."

"It is a cruel thing," Brytta replied. "Had I not grown to love you in return... I shudder to think what might have been. You were bent on killing yourself rather than endure the pain..."

Nûrzgrat's head slowly rose and he stared across the longhouse as though he'd just heard a distant call.

"Nûrzgrat?"

"I know how we're gonna do it," he breathed.

"Do what?" she asked suspiciously.

He turned and fixed gleaming predatory eyes on his mate. A smirk curved his mouth. "Revenge."

* * *

"Hold still now," Mae said quietly as she carefully drew the needle through the gaping wound over Burbur's left eye, closing the cut stitch by stitch.

He sat on a log with the healer standing over him. With the _golug-hai_ maintaining a stony vigil nearby, and the giant _baalaku_ flanking him with distrust in their eyes, he wouldn't have stood a chance even if he'd wanted to defy them. Though he didn't look up at the woman, his red eyes flicked to her troubled face often.

"Be still," she admonished again. "When you look up at me, your brow twitches."

"Sorry," he muttered sullenly. Yet he couldn't understand this; she must know he'd had a go at her mate. Maybe he wasn't as likely to do what Shagal and Fulak were up to, but he'd delivered at least a couple poundings. Wailing _tarks_ got on his last nerve, and that one screamed and bellowed all the way into the den. Or would've done if Burbur hadn't shut him up good and proper.

And the _tears_. He thought only the _tark_ females were weepers. Even before he laid into the Man, the tears came, along with the begging. No blows exchanged, no attempt to fight; just a load of weakling's words so overwhelmed by hitching sobs the Orcs barely understood a word from him.

Yet here was the pitiful wretch's mate, standing bravely before him, tending his wounds. Maybe not making friendly conversation, but seeing to him anyway. Then she spoke, and her voice was hesitant and shaky, as though she didn't want to ask the question at all.

"Please, what are... your fellows... doing to him?"

Never the lying sort, Burbur shrugged. "The usual, like. Beatin' on'im and such. Fuckin' him. Whippin'im." Her hands at work around his brow froze. He shrugged again. "Just, you know. That sortuh thing." His voice trailed off, and he glanced up at her face.

Her lips were parted in shock, and her eyes were wide. Confused, the Orc tilted his head and looked at her with narrowed eyes. What did she _think_ they were doing? Matters of territory were handled the same way no matter who the trespasser was.

Maybe with less of the _tark_ fucking, but that was some weird thing about Shagal. She was Barash's youngest; who was Burbur to tell her what's what?

Before Mae could formulate a reply, Ghrulagûrz stiffened and strode to his shelter. He disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him. The Orc's eyes flicked between Morkoth and the healer, curiously noting her bafflment and the Uruk's worried gaze toward the hut.

Behind her, Mae heard Brianna say quietly, "I'll talk to him in a bit."

It took Mae a long while of standing speechless over the Orc before she could move or say anything. The casual way in which the Orc listed the abuses inflicted upon her former husband made her blood run cold. She had never in her life heard of a man being assaulted, and assumed that it simply wasn't possible. Men were so much stronger than women; they could not be victimized in the same ways. She didn't understand how it could happen. If it couldn't happen, then Faelur must be willing. Yet she could not imagine Faelur, the man who shared her home and her bed for twenty years, whom she thought she knew so well, being complicit in such an act with an Orc.

Her brow furrowing helplessly, she looked at Burbur and asked, "Is he... Does he embrace..."

Startled, Burbur stared blankly at her. "Whatcha mean?"

"Is he willing?" Mae forced herself to say. "Does he... does he lie with her... happily?"

"Wouldn't say that," the Orc frowned thoughtfully. "Blubs an awful lot. Keeps askin'em to kill'im." He shrugged. "Still gets it up, though. That whatchou mean?"

"Mae," Morkoth's deep voice rumbled, "they are raping him. Do you think it cannot happen to a male?"

She turned to the giant Uruk, her face stricken. She swallowed hard, clutching her throat. "I never imagined..." Morkoth nodded.

"Men must not speak of these things," he reasoned. "Perhaps... they believe it makes them seem weak." His eyes shifted to Ghru's shelter. "But it does happen." His own face seemed clouded by memory for a moment, and he bowed his head.

Seeing his glance, Mae's jaw went slack once more. Surely not. Not a frighteningly large, vicious-looking beast like Ghru. Yet if even he could be raped, it must be that Faelur...

She closed her eyes and turned away from Burbur as she attempted to compose herself. "How can you be so cruel?" she whispered.

Burbur frowned again, and glanced up at the _baalak_. The tall Uruk's tight-lipped expression told him nothing. At a loss, the Orc ventured, "What's'at mean, eh?"

Taking an unsteady breath, she replied, "You cause pain in someone who has done you no harm, and you... you think it... acceptable. You shrug as though it were something you do every day. As though... you _enjoy_ it. How could you?"

"Uh...," Burbur started to say, then his mouth closed. His brow furrowed. "Ain't nobody asked 'bout that." Shrugging, he added, "Guess I don't know. It just _is_." Chuckling humorlessly, he jerked his chin toward the Elves. "Maybe ask _them_ why they was skulkin' round our den, eh? Why they jumped all over me in the berry bushes for no reason. I weren't hurtin' _them_. I didn't run into no tree; they cut me like'is. Ask'em if _they_ liked it."

"It is not remotely the same," Faronhim interjected, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "And we did not approach you 'for no reason,' Orc. We knew you had taken Faelur..."

"He were in our territory!" Burbur barked in return, his face contorting with indignant rage. "Makes'im ours. You don't piss yerself over deer we kill; what the fuck's the difference?"

"He is a _Man_ , you imbecile," Bronnaeg retorted. "Your better in nearly every way imaginable. And exactly what 'territory' do you think you possess? What right have you to lay claim to _any_ holdings settled by Elves or Men? Or _Dwarves_ , for that matter?"

"We live in it, we hunt in it, we's _sittin'_ in it, it's _ours!_ " the Orc roared. "You wanna argue 'bout that, set me loose and we'll settle it!"

"That's enough!" Sandy interrupted forcefully. "You, Elves, shut the hell up and put your noses in a corner. I'm _so_ not interested in your bullshit right now." Turning to Burbur, she glowered. "And don't think for a second you're off the hook. Maybe Mae's willing to deal with your ass, but I'm betting you weren't an innocent bystander while your friends were messing with Faelur."

"Didn't do nothin' to'im," Burbur grumbled, slumping back down. Glancing up at Mae, who was close to tears, he winced a little. "Apart from... couple times... just to shut'im up. Might'uh knocked'im round a touch."

Sandy had to fight to suppress any expression of jealousy; she'd been righteously anxious to beat the snot out of Faelur herself, but was restrained from doing so. Leveling her finger in the Orc's face, she hissed, "If Nûrzgrat and Brytta don't walk out of that den of yours, _alive_ , _with_ Faelur, _also_ alive, I will hunt your ass down myself. Believe it."

He nearly crossed his eyes to keep her finger in his sights, sparing only a brief glance at her furious face. Surrounding her head was a halo of coppery red hair, a color he'd never seen before on a _tark_. Burbur's gut told him she must wield powerful magic, the way she seemed to dominate the others. Even _him_. One look in those eyes and he felt as though he'd done terrible wrongs for which he must make amends.

Oddly, he saw the same look in Akhûna's eyes when Shagal did something wrong.

Nodding his understanding, the Orc lowered his gaze from the formidable woman's and sat still as Mae's shaking hands resumed their work.

In spite of the red-haired one's apparent strength, he remained baffled by these _tark_ women and their acceptance of _baalaku_ as mates. There was no sign that they were here against their wills, either. When the red-head wasn't glaring daggers at him, she was gazing fondly at her whelp, watching him toddle about the settlement. An older _baalak_ girl chattered non-stop with him and held his hands to help him walk. Then Burbur's eyes fell on an Uruk about Nadar's age, by the look of him. The scowling glare fixed on the ground and the folded arms told Burbur that this one was trouble. Maybe not in the same ways Kraibûf's oldest was, but certainly an obstinant little shit.

"There we are," Mae said awkwardly, stepping back. "You shall bear a scar, I'm certain, but... not a large one."

"Don't mind scars," he shrugged.

The woman folded her arms over her chest. She gnawed her lip for a moment, clearly distressed. Burbur eyed her warily.

"Burbur," she said quietly, "are you... being honest with us?"

"Ain't the lyin' sort," he replied slowly.

"Faelur... is in your den, and... he's still alive. This is true?" The Orc nodded.

"Aye, 's'true." His head jerked around as the largest shelter's door opened, and his 'escorts' emerged with too-passive expressions on their faces. The male Uruk stomped up to Burbur and unceremoniously yanked him to his feet.

"We're headin' out," Nûrzgrat snarled, a firm grip on the Orc's ragged shirt. "Keep an eye out. In case this whole fuckin' thing's a trap." His suspicious glare encompassed the Elves as well as the Orc.

"Be careful, both of you," Brianna told them as she came closer. She held her sleeping babe to her chest. "Bring him back alive."

Nûrzgrat's expression turned cold and hard. "I ain't gonna cut his throat, if that's what you're sayin'." Brie blanched and quickly shook her head.

"No one is suggesting that," Brytta said quietly. "Come. We have only a few hours of daylight left." Reaching out and gripping the Orc's chin hard, she forced him to look in her eyes. "Play us for fools, and you will die. The fate of your fellows depends upon your honesty in this enterprise. If we walk into a trap, we shall show no mercy. To _any_. Do I make myself clear?"

"But... but... you _promised_ ," Burbur whimpered desperately. "Not the little'uns."

"It is up to _you_ ," she repeated sternly. "Betray us to their doom, as well as your own."

Nûrzgrat smirked. "There ain't nothin' worse than pissin' off a female, Burbur." Slapping the Orc's shoulder, he added, "Specially this one."

As he half-dragged the Orc toward the treeline, Brianna pulled Brytta aside and hissed under her breath, "You're not serious. You wouldn't kill their children, would you?"

Brytta glanced toward her departing mate and their captive guide, gauging the distance and deciding they were out of earshot. "Of course not," she replied in an undertone. "I'd rather not let the Orcs believe I have no stomach for doing so. Perhaps he will keep his promise if it is not only _his_ neck he must protect."

Nodding, Brianna watched as the woman followed the Orcs out of the settlement and out of sight. Her gaze fell on the little house she and Ghru had built, and she bit her lip.

"Sandy, could you take Hontor for a bit?" she said quietly. Her friend approached and gathered the little baby girl in her arms.

"I hoped he was over it," Sandy said. "Or... past it. But I guess... I guess the nightmares..."

Brie nodded. "They don't seem to stop. He might get one night out of a week, but the rest..." She sighed sadly. "I don't know what to do. He just won't talk at all. I don't want to force him, but..."

"Well... how did you manage? Afterward?" Sandy asked awkwardly.

Laughing a little, Brianna looked at her friend. "I talked about it. I screamed and cried. I pounded pillows. Then I put him in jail. I dealt with the fear and anger, then I got closure." Once more, her eyes went to her shelter. "He didn't."

"But... Nûlkol's dead," Sandy reminded her, and Brianna shook her head.

"That's not enough." Sighing, she went on, "He was at their mercy for twenty-five years, Sandy. Nûlkol was only a couple years old, remember? Maybe his death ended a chapter, but it didn't close the book." _I don't know what will_ , she worried. "I'll be back in a bit." Brianna went to her home and quietly let herself in.

At first, she couldn't find him. It seemed almost comical that, in such a small room with so few furnishings, an Uruk as large as Ghru could hide, but he'd managed it. In the shadow cast by the large chair in the corner, he huddled with his arms over his head. He was wedged in between the bulky chair and the wall, his feet curled inward to keep even a toe from peeking out past the edge of the shadow that concealed him. Brianna tried not to cry.

"It's just me," she said softly. Moving slowly so her scent could carry ahead of her, and her approach wouldn't startle him, Brie sat on the floor near, but not too near, Ghru's place. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared across the room, for it seemed that making obvious eye contact when he was in this state only made it worse.

All Brie could do now was what she'd done every few days for the past two years. She sat near enough for him to see and smell her, but not so near she could touch him. She sat with her back to the wall watching the dust motes cascading through the sunbeams that shone through the window high on the wall, open now to let the last cool breezes of the autumn waft in. She sat in helpless despair of ever getting through to her mate, her lover, her friend as he cowered in fear in the darkness.


	6. Losing Their Heads

The sun had nearly disappeared below the western horizon, barely discernible past the trees, when they stopped for the night. Thakûf scouted around the sheltered hollow he'd chosen for their first campsite, pitching his nose high and sucking in great gulps of air past flared nostrils. He walked a circuit around the immediate area, sniffing and snuffling with a furrowed brow, doing his best to discern friend or foe from the plethora of wild scents. As he circled, Gwen unrolled their sleeping pallets and laid out some rations for their evening meal.

"I think it'll be all right," he murmured tentatively. "Long as the fire ain't so big. Oughta be okay."

"Just enough to warm us," Gwen agreed nervously. This was the part that had made her the most anxious all day: what would they talk about? It had been easy to comment on the trees and rocks they passed, and guess the history of the occasional ruin covered in vines and pitted with age. Sitting before the fire with no such distractions left her floundering for something – _anything_ – to pass the time until they slept.

One idea that had frequently presented itself as she watched the Uruk youth's movements and admired his feral grace, brought blushes to her cheeks now.

Thakûf gathered some branches and twigs and brought them to the campsite, then spent a good bit of time preparing the ground as Morkoth had taught him. He cleared a circle about a yard across, then built a dome of broken branches over a bed of twigs. Digging his flint and steel from the depths of his pack, he began striking for a spark.

While he was preoccupied, Gwen let her eyes wander over him a little more than she usually did. Though she'd spent a few weeks in Sandy's company, it was not easy to emulate such boldness as the red-haired woman showed. Gwen had never laid hands upon a man, nor had she seen one unclothed. Thakûf was the first male of any kind she'd seen shirtless; her own father would never parade about in a state of undress even in the privacy of his own home. But oh what feelings she'd had when Thakûf revealed himself in that casual way of his only last week! Grumbling under his breath that Ilsa likely spilled the water on purpose, he'd stripped to the waist without a thought. Remembering how she'd gasped and her eyes widened to drink in every detail as if of their own accord, Gwen was assailed now with the mad desire to touch his chest, trace those scars left by the badger's claws, lean close enough to breathe in his scent...

Startled by the direction of her thoughts, she shook herself and glanced at Thakûf. Thankfully, he was still focused on their campfire. Gwen let her held breath ease out carefully. Another source of discomfort, of a physical kind, drew her brows together and caused her to chew her lip. Her overdress had a laced bodice which tied in the back. It was, now that she'd walked all day in its confines, most uncomfortable. Yet she couldn't loosen it herself. How would that look if she asked a boy to untie her dress? Quite wanton, by her estimation. And shameless as well.

"Heh, there yuh are, yuh little shit," Thakûf grinned, pleased with himself. He'd finally coaxed a spark to linger long enough to catch on the dried twigs. Hunkering down, he gently blew on the spark, nurturing it, urging it to create friends on other twigs. A slight smile pursed his lips.

Gwen had to tear her gaze from his body. What in the world was wrong with her? He was not posturing or purposely displaying his features for her enjoyment; he was starting a fire! She tried to calm her swiftly beating heart, and tell herself that it was wrong to feel such desires. Yet Sandy said it was not. _She_ certainly felt no constraints, as though there were no differences between men and women in this regard. As much as a man could lust, so could a woman. As desperately as a man might yearn for intimate touches, so could a woman.

And Gwen yearned. Every time she looked at Thakûf, she longed for a moment alone, dreamed of lying in his arms and feeling...

Again, she scatttered such thoughts with a shake of her head. It was safe to indulge them in the settlement, with walls and elders between them. Now they were in the wilds alone, beneath the stars, miles from any who might disapprove...

 _That is not helping_ , she chastised herself sternly. There was a certain comfort in deferring to authority in this: _I cannot indulge my desires for it would displease my mother._ Her thoughts could wander, her daydreaming could explore, her lips could whisper wishes in the darkness. Without such barriers, she felt fear. Fear that he was not what he seemed to be. Fear that her desire for him would ruin her. Fear that she would not care about either of those things.

Gwen couldn't know the turmoil of thoughts going through Thakûf's mind as well. He didn't know what to say, either; he felt that he'd exhausted every possible topic of interest hours before. She'd put his pallet next to hers, and now he was sitting stiffly by her, unsure what to do. Well after the fire was strong enough to manage on its own, he continued to fuss with it, poking the wood around, adjusting the structure a touch here and there. All pointless, except to delay the inevitable conversation.

Worse than that was the discomfort of his leather breeches. They were well broken in, perhaps, but still snug around the crotch when one's cock started perking up, as Thakûf's was doing now. Fixing his alarmed gaze on the fire, he tried to subtly shift his position a little, maneuver his cock so it wouldn't bunch up in his trousers. He quickly realized this was not a task that could be accomplished without hands.

 _Wish I could just have'em off_ , he grumbled to himself. It was something he often wished for; the opportunity to shed his clothing and bask in the sun's warmth, or lie abed in naked comfort, able to easily indulge any wanton thought that came to mind. He'd never felt comfortable pursuing either of those things in the settlement. Were he alone now, he'd strip down to nothing. _Probably scare the fuck outta her if I did, though_ , he conceded.

"Have you... that is to say, is this...," Gwen ventured awkwardly, distracting him from his thoughts. Sighing, she blurted, "Do you often sleep outside?"

Grateful for having _some_ topic offered up to divert attention from what was going on in his lap, Thakûf replied, "Not much, no more. When we was on the run, though, we slept outside all the time." Glancing at her face, he faltered, for she was so pretty in the firelight. Swallowing, he added, "Then we found that clearin' with the ruin, and started buildin' the settlement. Don't sleep outside much anymore."

"How did you stay warm?" she asked quietly, drawing up her knees and hugging them. She edged a little closer to the fire. "I confess, I hardly noticed the chill in the air until the sun went down."

"Well, we don't feel the cold like you lot do," Thakûf explained. "Sorta... hot-blooded, I guess. 'S'what Brianna said, anyways. We're like... furnaces, us Uruks." He chuckled shly and ducked his head. "Good thing, too, cause we didn't have no blankets for the longest time, and it wasn't near spring yet."

Gwen chewed her lip, wondering if it was as sensitive a subject for him as it seemed to be for the older males. Almost no one spoke of Isengard or what horrors went on there. For her, it was a dark and terrifying mystery, a place that produced monsters and wielded suffering like a weapon. Yet Thakûf came from there. Gentle-natured Morkoth and strong, stoic Ghrulagûrz grew up there. Gruff and crude Nûrzgrat trained the 'monsters' that came from there. What was it like, truly?

"Whassat?" Thakûf asked, startling her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said somethin'," the young Uruk replied with a frown. "Sounded kinda like you was askin' me what somethin' was like, but I didn't catch it all."

"Oh my," she laughed awkwardly. "I must have spoken my thoughts aloud. Forgive me." Yet she looked at him and wondered if he'd tell her, and if it would be a proper horror story of a kind that kept her wakeful deep into the night, frightened of shadows. "What was Isengard like?"

Thakûf's brow furrowed with thought as he tried to recall. "Don't remember much," he said quietly. "First thing I saw was Nûrzgrat. Like, there was nothin', then there was this blindin' light. Torches high on the walls, I figured out later. Opened my eyes, and there he was, yankin' me by the arms and draggin' me outta the wall."

"Out of the _wall_?" Gwen exclaimed with surprise. "My goodness; where were you?"

"Morkoth explained it later on, like a year later or somethin'," Thakûf shrugged. "We was made, then taken and put in the mud. There was these holes in the walls, and we kinda grew in them holes til we was big enough to be useful." He shrugged again. "Nûrzgrat just... tore me loose and pulled me out."

"What was it like?" she whispered with horrified fascination.

"I dunno," he replied. "Didn't know who I was, or what I was. Couldn't hardly walk; didn't know how." Gwen realized as he spoke that his voice began to tremble slightly, and his eyes fixed on the fire, taking on an intense look as he gazed backwards at that last day in Isengard, his first day of life. "There was water... all around. Up to Nûrzgrat's waist already. Didn't know who or what he was neither. All I could tell was he was scared. Like... real scared. All of'em were. Made me real scared too. He pulled me free and I... I slid outta his hands and... and went under... under the water... Couldn't breathe..."

He stopped when he realized Gwen had taken his hand and was holding it firmly.

"It's all right," she told him gently. "It's over now. You're safe here."

Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Thakûf chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's stupid. It's just water."

"No, I understand," Gwen reassured him. "How frightening it must have been."

"It was," he nodded. "Morkoth put me on his back and I just held on. Nûrzgrat tore Raz out, put him on Ghru's back, and they all ran for a tunnel. Loads of Orcs was headin' that way, so... I guess they figured it was a way out." Thakûf squeezed his eyes shut on the sounds that filled his mind, of screams and roars, the splashing of rocks and debris knocked loose from above, and the desperate, incoherent whimpers he and Raz made as they clung to those strangers who seemed bent on taking them out of that hell.

Except neither of them knew that's what the Uruks intended.

"How old were you?" Gwen asked incredulously. She could barely imagine an adult enduring such a traumatic event, much less a child. Yet even as he answered, she realized how foolish her question was.

"Minutes," he shrugged. "Nûrzgrat said I probably had another month to go before I was ripe and could come out and be okay. But I come out early, so... I was all wrong for awhile." He bowed his head.

"What do you mean, 'all wrong'?" she asked curiously.

Thakûf didn't answer right away. His shoulder twitched a little. "Things I probably shouldn't've. Didn't have no reason not to trust nobody. Anything they told me to do, I did. It was real bad when it was Nûlkol. He'd make me fetch stuff for'im, do his work for'im. Made me..." Unexpectedly, the Uruk clammed up. He clenched his jaw and stared hard into the fire.

He'd been so forthcoming before, Gwen had no idea why he would stop now. Narrowing her eyes, she urged, "What did he make you do?"

Swallowing hard several times, and attempting to speak more than once, he finally muttered under his breath, "Made me... jerk'im off." He closed his eyes and winced with clear humiliation.

As if assuming she'd think less of him for it, he hastily growled, "Didn't know it was wrong. Told me it felt good and all. Nothin' wrong with it. Said I... I should learn it anyway, cause... I'd wanna do it to... to myself. If I could do my own jerkin', I could do him proper." He grimaced, and his head sunk lower. "Watched me do it... to myself... a lot."

Gwen wasn't sure what to think. She'd never heard of what he was describing, but his shamed expression kept her from asking for a description. Whatever terrible thing it was, it still affected him. Not knowing quite what to say or how to comfort him, she awkwardly patted his knee. "It is fortunate those days are over, then."

"Yeah," Thakûf nodded miserably. After a moment, a slight smile twitched his mouth. "That was the only time I ever saw Nûrzgrat go after Nûlkol, when he caught... us. Usually liked to just watch Morkoth and Ghru beat him up. Fuck, he laid into Nûlkol. Beat the shit outta him. Came close to killin' him, he was so pissed. Told'im somethin' about me not bein' his _globa_ -somethin'. I don't remember. I ain't never learned Orcish." Sighing, he said in an embarrassed voice, "Didn't really stop me, though. Not... the jerkin' myself part, that is. Couldn't stop cause... it _did_ feel good, you know?"

"I... I see," she said tentatively, her brow furrowing.

Glancing up at her face, he couldn't tell if she was horrified or embarrassed. It wasn't clear that she even knew what he was talking about. As if from a belated lightning strike, he realized he'd probably just revealed something he shouldn't. Why did his mouth run wild, as if he had no good sense?

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he apologized. "That was gross. I shouldn't've said nothin'. Nûrzgrat told me not to back then. Said it was best just to forget it ever happened." Sagging guiltily, he muttered, "Guess I forgot... not to say nothin'."

"No, it's all right," she insisted, shaking her head. "I'm... I'm sorry that happened to you."

Relaxing somewhat, Thakûf said, "I didn't know it was wrong. I had a hard time knowin' what was wrong and what was right for a long time." Perking up a little, he went on, "Then Brie and Sandy came along, and it just... I mean, they didn't come right out and say, 'This is wrong.' You just got a sense that..." Casting about in his mind, he couldn't really pinpoint the way it all changed, and how the women made it clear where the lines were drawn. "Most of the time, Sandy'd come right out and tell you. Or she'd punch your face. Sometimes it was just a feelin', you know? Or a look. If they didn't like somethin', they'd look away or make a face or somethin'. You just got to know what was okay and what wasn't by watchin'em. Somethin' like that."

"You watched them a lot?" Gwen asked tightly. She felt a pang of jealousy for some reason, worrying that the bold and worldly Sandy might still attract Thakûf's eye, even now.

"Yeah," Thakûf nodded easily. "They was different. Didn't ever see whiteskins before then. Nûrzgrat and them told us we had to stay away from'em. Told us Isengard was destroyed by'em." Chuckling, he added, "That old wizard said it was a load of trees what did it. Stupid, huh?"

"That is the tale I heard," Gwen confirmed. "That great forest spirits took the form of mighty oaks and unleashed their wrath upon Saruman for his deeds against them." Furrowing her brow, she looked at Thakûf as though for the first time. "The tale said nothing about... about those who escaped. Or... or those who may not have deserved..."

The young Uruk shook his head. His expression was sad and resigned. "Listen to Nûrzgrat for a bit, and he'll tell you we deserved every bit of it. Morkoth says the same. What they all did in Rohan... drownin' was too good for'em."

"That's terrible," Gwen breathed with alarm. "But... you weren't born yet! Why must you suffer for their deeds?" Gesturing helplessly, she said, "You hide in the mountains, you can't travel except under cover of darkness and in the wilds where no eyes see you. It is hardly fair."

"Nûrzgrat and Morkoth feel real bad about it, but what's done is done," Thakûf shrugged. "Ain't no takin' it back or changin' it. It's why we gotta keep our heads down in that settlement and just... keep to ourselves. Anybody sees us, we're good as dead."

"I'm sorry, Thakûf," Gwen lamented. "For what it may be worth, I bear you no grudge. I do not set upon your shoulders the sins of your elders." Though she trembled slightly, somewhat shocked by her boldness, she reached up to brush his cheek with her fingers. "You are a good man, Thakûf."

Ducking his head to hide his pleased grin, Thakûf swelled with happiness. She called him 'man,' something he'd longed to be rather than an Orc, for it seemed there was no room for Orcs in the world. It was terribly important that Gwen, of all people, should see the Man inside him, even if no one else could.

"Brie told me once that me and Raz was always gonna be different from them, cause of what we grew up with," Thakûf said thoughtfully. "Didn't see the things the others did, or have the same shit happen to us."

Gwen nodded. "That makes sense," she agreed. "You have been around Sandy and Brianna, and they must surely have a tempering influence on your elders. Why, I daresay, they have been quite noble compared to before, haven't they?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Morkoth made sure, when they came along, that they was protected, you know? Didn't let Nûlkol or Frû come after'em. Morkoth knew what was right and what was wrong. He made sure they were safe." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And Ghru did too. He was good to Brie. Well... except when he bit her a couple times."

"He bit her?" Gwen blurted with surprise. "Why in the world would he do that?"

"Uh... it's... it's an Orc... thing," he replied awkwardly and with no little embarrassment. She seemed to be utterly speechless with horror; it felt like daggers through his chest, seeing her reaction. The thrill he'd felt when she called him 'man' drained away with her recollection that he was nothing of the kind. A tiny spark of belligerant defiance urged him to explain and justify something he barely understood and had never experienced himself. "It's done on the mate. I asked Morkoth a while ago, and he said it was kinda two things." Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he continued, "You mark your mate so everybody else knows she's taken. You know: you got her, you claimed her, she's yours. They shouldn't be sniffin' round her or nothin'."

"I see," the young woman replied uncomfortably. Her hand went unconsciously to her throat. Thakûf winced, for she looked frightened.

"Then, there's... blood," he murmured, purposely avoiding her eyes. If she didn't approve of the first part, the second would completely disgust her. "Somethin' different about mate's blood." A frown creased Thakûf's brow and his gaze wandered. "Somethin' different about it," he muttered. Then he looked up sharply at Gwen and blinked, his mouth hanging open in sudden realization. "Fuck. That's what happened to me."

Startled from her own queasiness, she said, "What do you mean? What is the matter, Thakûf?"

"When your da knocked your tooth loose," he replied, eagerly leaning closer. "There was blood in your mouth. I couldn't help it; I smelled it, and I went for it. I tasted your blood, and I was done for. That must've been it."

Gwen shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

He couldn't answer for a moment; far from being upset, he seemed as happy as a child who has discovered something new.

"I don't know how to explain it," he finally told her. "But I tasted your blood, and then everything was different. I couldn't think of nothin' but you. I wanted to be with you, and protect you. Make sure you were safe. I didn't feel right bein' in a different shelter. I couldn't stop thinkin' about you." His warm eyes began to roam her face, her body, drinking her in. "I wanted to be with you," he murmured, his voice a soft purr, "and kiss you. Touch you. Mate with you."

Seeing her slight recoil and worried expression sobered him, and he shook himself. "Sorry. I know you don't wanna."

Gwen's face was on fire, she blushed so hotly from his words and the way he said them. Gathering herself, she said shakily, "My... my blood... made you feel this way?"

"Must've," Thakûf nodded. "I mean, I liked you already. Thought you was pretty. It was nice talkin' to you, when you was willin' to talk to me. So I already kinda liked you before that. Just... it got to be... more, after that. After the blood."

Brow pinched, she whimpered, "I'm... I'm not ready... for mating..."

"I know," he nodded quickly. "I know. And I ain't gonna do rape on you, I swear. I may want matin', but... not that bad." A lump formed in his throat as the image of Hilda floated through his mind. "I don't wanna make you hate me. And I don't wanna hurt you. I couldn't stand it if I did."

"I'd still... still like to kiss you," Gwen ventured, hoping to ease the frustration she perceived in his manner. "But that's all."

A smile curved his lips. "I'd like that too. Sometimes that's all I think about. Kissin' you again."

Ducking her head shyly to hide her eager smile, she inched closer to him. "Then... kiss me, Thakûf."

Thakûf was grateful for the chance to close her eyes to what he was. When she kissed him, she always did that. Just like Brie and Sandy did when their mates kissed them. With her eyes closed, she could forget that he wasn't a Man, she could forget the stupid things he'd said over the last hour, and maybe... maybe she'd want to be his mate some day. If he hadn't ruined it with his dumb mouth.

Shifting close, he reached up and cupped her cheek as he'd seen his elders do. He saw her eyes close as he approached, and almost sighed with relief. His lips touched hers, and his own eyes closed automatically.

They were alone in the wilds. It didn't have to be a quick kiss stolen behind a hut, or before Raz came into the shelter, or behind anyone's back. No one would see, no one would interrupt. It was just the two of them.

His body thrumming with need, he found his hands reaching for her, drawing her closer. Encircling her shoulders, he felt the rough homespun of her dress, and wished it were gone. He'd longed to see her body for some time now, and desired even more to touch her naked flesh as he'd seen his elders do when they mated. It may have been years since he last spied on their intimacies, but his memories were strong and recently renewed by daydreams of himself and Gwen in their places. He knew great pleasure could be given by hands upon bare skin; he knew what wonders lips and tongue could create.

Thakûf, unaware in his feverish thoughts what his hands were about, didn't realize he'd plucked the small buttons from the front of her underdress down to the top hem of her overdress's bodice. His sharp claws silently and easily rent the threads, letting them fall like raindrops upon the blanket. Similar overwhelming desire clouded Gwen's awareness as well.

She could barely breathe in her severely laced overdress, excitement leaving her gasping against his mouth. His strong arms supported her as she floated weightless in a dreamworld. Unbelievably, the sweet pressure of his lips left, and she felt as though she'd been cast adrift. A whimpering mewl of protest slipped out, swiftly followed by a sigh as Thakûf's warm mouth traced kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

Gripping his wrist as he peeled back the now open front of her underdress – a development that was still completely lost on her in this blissful moment – she let her head fall back, inviting his lips to taste of her flesh. The temptation of a vulnerable throat to an Orc was forgotten, for he was Thakûf. Nothing else mattered.

A barely discernible flicker of alarm darted through Gwen's mind as the Uruk's mouth descended further, partaking of her inexplicably bared shoulder. The flicker became more insistent when she felt his lips upon her bosom; the scrape of his teeth as he opened his mouth and breathed hotly upon her breast made her tense with fear.

"Tha-Thakûf...," she breathed.

"Touch me," he murmured against her skin. "Touch me."

"I'm... I am... I... Thakûf..." She felt his clawed hand clutching her skirt, sliding it up her leg. She didn't know what to do; he seemed too lost to hear her words. Laying a shaking hand on his, she pressed firmly, hoping he'd register that she didn't want that. To her relief, he released his grip and smoothed the skirt back down. His attention to the curve of her breast resumed, his arm slipping around her waist to pull her closer still.

"Touch me," he whispered again, more urgently. "Ah fuck, _touch me_."

"I _am_ touching you," she replied in confusion. Her hands had never left his back, caressing him though she wished she could feel his bare skin. It looked so different from her own, she'd longed to know how different it _felt_.

"Nah, my _cock_ ," he breathed desperately. "Touch my cock. _Please_."

"I don't know what... I... I don't...," she faltered, bewildered. He seemed to grasp her confusion and grabbed her hand. Before she could protest, he'd pressed her palm to his privates.

For a moment that lasted less than a heartbeat, she felt a hard, hot bulge straining against his leather breeches beneath her hand. Then panic set in. This wasn't what she wanted. Not now. Not yet.

" _Thakûf!_ " she squeaked in shocked fear, pulling her hand away quickly.

The young Uruk grunted in agitation, then seemed to awaken as though from a dream. He exhaled sharply through his nose, and withdrew from her in confusion. Gwen's scent wasn't right; something frightened her. Thakûf's instincts told him to be wary; his mate had perceived a threat.

Had he been more mature, the urge to mate might have faded as the need to protect intensified. For Thakûf, so young and inexperienced, the urge was too great to deny.

At least his good sense returned to him, and he realized that the threat Gwen was reacting to was _him_. Her lip quivered, and she stared at him even as she pulled from his slackening embrace. He'd done something, stepped over a line, though he couldn't quite grasp what he might've done. The last several minutes – or longer? - were a blur.

"I'm sorry!" he cried desperately. "I stopped. I'm sorry."

Gwen trembled and found speech difficult for a moment. "I... I'm afraid to... to touch you... _there_ ," she whispered haltingly. She pointed timidly at his lap. Thakûf's eyes widened.

"Oh fuck," he breathed. "Did I say that out loud? I'm sorry. You don't have to. I shouldn't've said nothin'. I'm sorry." Glancing downward, he saw that the buttons were torn from her underdress, and the enticing curve of her pale breast was marred with scrapes from his teeth. He hadn't torn the skin, but the welts stood out sharply, accusingly. "Sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes and looking away in shame.

As though some power was at work to complete his humiliation, Thakûf became acutely aware of the painful need to finish what was started. If it was only tight trousers failing to stretch over a furious erection, he could have weathered it: unlaced the front and provided some breathing space. But this urgency was greater than a simple airing out could solve. It was a primal instinct, one that all Orcs suffered. Though usually, they didn't suffer long.

"Shit," he growled, "gotta... gotta finish this. Sorry, Gwen." He lurched to his feet, clutching his privates.

"I don't understand," she whimpered. Raising her hand to her throat, she now realized the ruin of her underdress. Startled fingers also found the welts upon her breast.

"I gotta jerk off," Thakûf told her hastily. "Oh fuck, this hurts. It really fuckin' hurts." Wincing and grimacing, he staggered off into the darkness beyond the firelight.

Gwen drew great gulps of air to calm herself. She pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. Then she froze, for a sound came to her ears that she'd only heard a few times, deep in the night when her parents thought she was asleep.

Thakûf was groaning in the same hitching way she'd heard her father do when he made love to her mother. Eyes widening, Gwen found several things clicking into place all at once, leaving her mind in a whirlwind.

She now knew what Thakûf must mean when he said that strange phrase. It was what he was doing now, and what Nûlkol made him do to him years ago. What he confessed to do often after that time. Her thoughts leaped to a conversation with Sandy, weeks ago. When she asked if Gwen touched herself...

That's what he was doing: seeking pleasure alone. She sagged with relief that he had the courtesy to go elsewhere, when it seemed to be her doing that brought him to such a state in the first place.

Guilt assailed her at the thought. Perhaps it was only something her father would have said, but it was a notion she'd grown up with and was difficult to discard. She could almost hear him once more, advising her to remain demure and chaste when dealing with Serondaen, lest he be 'urged to mischief.' As though the thought would never occur to him on his own, but required a wanton woman such as herself to put such thoughts into his head.

Perhaps she _was_ wanton, she thought, hugging herself tightly. She'd enjoyed his attentions and encouraged them. It was no wonder he'd lost himself; she'd eagerly led, and enthusiastically followed. The power of that moment, when pleasures of the flesh were close enough to touch, nearly overwhelmed them both. Yet for the Uruk, it seemed to be a much more difficult call to resist.

Soon Thakûf returned to the campsite, looking breathless and humiliated. He didn't immediately sit on his pallet, but rather leaned against a tree several yards away from her. Bowing his head, he rubbed his face roughly. "I'm sorry, Gwen," he repeated. "I'm so sorry."

"It's... it's all right," she replied automatically. She found she couldn't look at him, and stared at nothing.

"I don't wanna scare you," he said quietly. "Or hurt you. I'm sorry."

"I think... I think we need to... to talk more," Gwen suggested hesitantly. "To know each other better. I just don't think that I know you well enough." Glancing up, she met his eyes. There was so much remorse in his expression, she felt even worse. "I like you," she reassured him. "I like you very much. But I can't just... I just don't feel right."

He forced himself to smile; only half his mouth managed it. "Yeah. I know. Everytime you... you look at me, it ain't right."

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "It's not because you're an Orc. To be honest, were you a Man, it would be the same." Ducking her head to hide her fierce blush, she said, "I think if... if I'd been given to Serondaen, as wife... I would've been frightened. I would still have been frightened, though I believed I cared for him." She looked into Thakûf's eyes again. "I never cared for him the way I do for you, Thakûf."

The corners of the Uruk's mouth twitched, fighting to reveal a pleased smile at hearing her words. Then he frowned. "So... if he mated with you, it wouldn't've been matin', it'd be rapin', wouldn't it?"

Gwen nodded slowly. "I think so, yes."

"I ain't never gonna do that," Thakûf said sincerely. "I promise."

Her tension seemed to drain away, and she smiled. "I believe you."

As though her words granted him permission to do so, Thakûf returned to his pallet and sat down. Leaning on his crossed legs, he stared into the fire. "There ain't much to know about me," he murmured. "You got sixteen years of life. Things you done and seen. I just got two." Bowing his head sadly, he muttered, "I ain't seen much. Ain't done much. Ain't much to tell."

"Well," Gwen said thoughtfully, restraining the urge to touch his shoulder and offer some measure of comfort for his feelings of inadequacy. "You could tell me what you think. What you think about the world. About the people in your clan. About..." Suddenly at a loss, she cast about desperately for something to say. "About... birds."

Thakûf snorted with amusement and smiled a little. "Yeah. Guess we could talk about that."

"It's rather late," she gently suggested. "I think we should try to sleep."

"Yeah," Thakûf agreed, nodding. "I'll keep watch for a bit. You go ahead and go to sleep."

"Don't stay up all night," she advised as she lay down on her pallet. "You wake me and I'll take a turn, all right?"

"Sure," he said softly, his lips curved in a gentle smile.

"Good night, Thakûf."

"G'night, Gwen."


	7. Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It...

The sun's rising saw three figures trekking beneath the trees, light shadows dappling their shoulders. In the lead was a tall Uruk with a grim countenance, gripping a shorter Orc by the elbow. The Orc's wrists were bound behind him, and his head hung low in defeat. A woman in the guise of a Man brought up the rear, her sword drawn, her eyes scanning for threats to either side.

Very little was spoken during the night; apart from brief questions to verify that they still headed in the right direction, none had a desire for conversation. Well after the sun was up and the birds had begun their songs, the Uruk halted.

"This'll do," Nûrzgrat growled. "Get some sleep. We'll carry on at dusk." Without another word, he forced the Orc to his knees and all but kicked him over on his side. Whimpering, Burbur scooted away and tried to make himself comfortable in the shade of a thick bush.

"I'll take the first watch," Brytta offered, sheathing her sword.

Grunting shortly, Nûrzgrat sat down with his back against a tree where he could keep an eye on the Orc. Now that they were on their way back to the Orc clan's den, he began to entertain the lingering doubts he'd had earlier that it would go smoothly. In his experience, Orcs didn't give up their hard-won prizes easily. There was likely a bit of general vengeance at play, along with Shagal's lusts. Nûrzgrat couldn't say he gave a fuck one way or another whether Faelur got his every minute. Over the last few days, he'd gotten to know a bit about the Man's wife, and it sat like an ugly weight in his gut, thinking of Faelur's betrayal. To turn on one he called mate for such a long time was unconscionable. Had _he_ been there...

He leaned his head back against the trunk. He wasn't there. He was likely murdering Frû at the time. The recollection made him wince and swallow hard. _Don't think of that_ , he admonished himself. The wound was still raw, the question of whether there was some other way still clouding his thoughts. Though the long-dead female's face no longer haunted his dreams, he woke up weeping for another reason now. It was humiliating.

Gazing across the small camp at his mate, he relaxed contentedly. That was _his_ mate. Soon enough, the new hut would be finished and the whiteskins would move out of the longhouse, then it would just be Nûrzgrat and Brytta. No more sneaking off into the forest when they felt an urge. Especially not now, he thought with a scowl. If he'd known there were fucking _golug-hai_ up the trees whenever he and Brytta mated in supposed privacy...

On the other hand, he smirked, it'd serve them right. He hoped they got a good eyeful of his bare ass at work. With any luck, they saw her suck his cock the other day, something he never expected of her, nor had he ever experienced it. _Hope yuh got a nice long look at_ _ **that,**_ he chuckled to himself.

"What are you thinking about?" Brytta said, startling him from his thoughts. Her expression was curious and not a little suspicious. _She knows me_ , Nûrzgrat thought smugly.

"This'n that," he shrugged casually. "Oughta get some sleep. Wake me in a few hours." Making a great show of getting comfortable, he closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. But that smile lingered.

Sighing, Brytta turned her attention back to her watch. She did, indeed, know Nûrzgrat well, and suspected his thoughts weren't entirely pure. Whenever he grinned like that... A delicious shiver ran through her, and her eyes drifted over his lean form. His muscular chest and arms. His strong legs. The obvious mound of his manhood in his lap implying that only a raised eyebrow and knowing glance were required to call it to full attention. _Not now_ , she chastised herself, and fanned her blushing cheeks. Glancing at the Orc, she saw that Burbur remained awake, staring at nothing.

She sobered, for he appeared quite despondent. Perhaps he was attempting a ruse to catch her off guard, but Brytta doubted it. Though her acquaintence with him was brief, he struck her as the sort of fellow who was not quite bright enough to craft clever plans. At the moment, he was likely distracted by his worry over the Orclings in his clan. It was cruel, but Brytta held tightly to the threat she'd leveled, regardless that she would give up her own life before slaying another child of any breeding. And tempting though the possibility was of paying Shagal and Fulak in kind for their insults, she knew she must remain focused. This was not going to be easy, nor would it be quick. Once in the Orcs' den, she and Nûrzgrat could easily be overwhelmed by their numbers.

"Tell me – Burbur, is it?" she said quietly, and the Orc's red eyes darted toward her. "What resistance should we expect to face? If, as you say, only Shagal and Fulak partake in Faelur's... use, will any but them fight to keep him?"

Burbur licked his lips nervously, and flicked his eyes toward Nûrzgrat. The Uruk remained immobile and seemingly asleep, but Brytta knew he listened. The Orc swallowed, then said, "Can't say. Nobody likes _tarks_ or nothin'..." He shrugged and left the statement unfinished. Brytta leaned forward, her expression hard.

"They will protect Shagal and Fulak, regardless of what they think of Faelur, is that right?" The Orc nodded, his brow furrowed as though he feared he might reveal more than he should if he spoke. "I see." Glancing at Nûrzgrat, she caught his half-open eye. "We should expect a fight, then. Whether we threaten those two idiots alone or not."

"Not the little'uns," Burbur whispered fearfully.

"Make shit hard for us," Nûrzgrat growled quietly, "and I'll start with yours." Burbur whimpered and stared at the Uruk pleadingly.

"I won't make no trouble, I swear," the Orc promised. "Take yuh right in the back. There's a tunnel ain't nobody uses but me and them when we go off huntin'. Empty most'uh the time. Nobody'll see yuh..."

"Ain't worried about bein' _seen_ ," Nûrzgrat snapped. "You keep your mouth shut and make sure we ain't heard or _smelled_ , got it? Now go the fuck to sleep."

* * *

"Get up, you," Nûrzgrat growled, kicking Burbur's leg. The sun had gone down, giving the group better cover than in daylight. Now that they knew what the Elves were protecting them from, the Uruk was more wary of running into Men in the wilds. He was less worried about Orcs, he had to admit.

Hauling the groggy Orc to his feet, Nûrzgrat held on tightly to Burbur's elbow.

"Will we reach the den by morning?" Brytta asked. Burbur shrugged.

"Think so. We ain't far, not from the back tunnel, leastways."

"Lead on, then," she ordered, gesturing for him to proceed. Nûrzgrat jerked Burbur's arm, urging him into motion.

"No tricks," Nûrzgrat hissed. "You said you got a whelp. I'll find it, if you try to fuck us."

"I won't, I swear!" Burbur insisted, a catch in his voice. "I swear."

"See that you don't," Brytta growled.

They travelled for hours in the dark. The woman's eyes were not as adapted to the night as the Orc's; she kept her eyes trained on his back and gnawed her lip. He could lead them anywhere, into any sort of trap his folk might devise. Nûrzgrat was no better in the dark than she, and just as much at a disadvantage. She hoped the Orc was unaware of the Uruk's weakness.

As Burbur began to angle eastward and upward, his nose twitching and eyes searching, Nûrzgrat pulled him to a stop.

"Smellin' the den, or one'uh yer clan comin' for us?" he growled in a low, menacing voice.

"The den," Burbur replied quickly. "Tunnel's here abouts. Just up'ere." He nodded his chin up a steep incline through a thick barrier of trees and underbrush, and looked sharply at Nûrzgrat as the Uruk jerked his arm.

"Empty tunnel?"

"Yeah," the Orc nodded. "Most'uh the time. Empty."

True to Burbur's word, they found the small opening in the clifface amidst a heavy overgrowth of brambles not long after the sky began to lighten with the dawn.

"You first," Nûrzgrat growled, pushing the Orc to his knees. "And keep your mouth shut. Make a sound, and I'll gut yuh where yuh stand. Then I'll go after yer mate and whelps."

"No, no, no, please," Burbur pleaded.

Turning to his own mate, Nûrzgrat gave her a concerned look. "You ready for this?"

"Yes," she nodded firmly, though she swallowed with difficulty. "We have come for Faelur. Remember that."

"Aye," the Uruk muttered grudgingly. Giving Burbur a shove, he growled, "Move it."

The tunnel was long and nearly lightless. Nûrzgrat was forced to help the Orc inch forward on his knees, for he didn't trust Burbur with his hands bound in front. As the earth closed in around them, the Uruk found his breaths coming deeper and more quickly. He didn't like being underground; even more than had happened the last time, he was made nervous and slightly panicky by the press of rock over his head.

"How much farther?" he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Opens up a bit further on," Burbur replied in an undertone. "Bit more light and such. Akhûna can't see like she used tuh. Barash neither."

"Old codgers," Nûrzgrat muttered.

"Yeah," the Orc chuckled.

Soon enough, the ceiling began to rise above their heads, and they were able to stand. Flickering, diffused light ahead seemed to come from one or two side chambers along the main tunnel further along. Nûrzgrat paused the group to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, then turned to Burbur.

"What's in them rooms, eh?" he whispered.

"Nothin'," Burbur said. "Probably nothin'."

"We shall see," Brytta muttered. Her sword was drawn, as was Nûrzgrat's. The Uruk urged Burbur forward to the first chamber.

It wasn't empty. For a moment, the Orcs in the room froze and stared dumbly at the three intruders. One was a very pregnant Orcess, sitting upon a rock. Kneeling before her was a male, his ear and one hand pressed to her belly as though waiting for the telltale kick from the small life growing within her. It was a touching scene that swelled Brytta's heart for a moment. If only these Orcs had chosen a different place for their private moment...

"Bur-...?" the Orc began questioningly, but he was swiftly cut off by the sudden action of the _baalak_ behind Burbur. It was over quickly: Nûrzgrat threw Burbur into the chamber so that he fell face down on the floor. Then he grabbed the Orcess by the arm and yanked her to her feet. His sword was laid across her swollen belly, his arm about her throat, so quickly the shocked Orc was helpless to defend her. Brytta rushed forward and planted her booted foot in the back of Burbur's neck to keep him down, and levelled her sword at the Orc.

"Don't hurt'er! Ah fuck, don't!" the Orc cried, his eyes darting between the Uruk's face and his weapon in a panic.

"It's like this," Nûrzgrat snarled. He could feel the female tensing, as though she intended to fight. Tightening his grip, he jerked her chin up and slapped her belly sharply with the flat of his sword as a reminder. "We got a mission. You ain't gonna sound no alarm. You ain't gonna stop us. If I gotta drag yer mate with us to make sure of it, that's what I'll do. Understand?"

"Please," the Orc sobbed, sinking to his knees. "My shaûk. She's my shaûk. Don't. Don't, please. I'll do anything yuh ask. Anything. Just let'er go, _please_."

"Smelled you lot before," the Orcess hissed. "Yuh been here, ain't yuh?"

"Yes, we have," Brytta replied hotly. "Your clanmates captured a friend of ours. We've come to fetch him back. If you hinder us, we will cut a bloody swath, beginning with you."

Nûrzgrat found himself staring at the pleading Orc. There was something... familiar about his scent. It was merely a tickle at the back of the Uruk's mind, but it formed a memory of place and time. Of the breeding pits more than twenty years ago, for that was the only time he'd ever been...

"I know you," he growled. The Orc slowly looked up, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Yeah. I do. Smelled you before. Long time ago. You brought the breeders to the pit, didn't you? You were in Isengard."

The Orc's eyes widened. Swallowing hard, he slowly shook his head. "No. Ain't never been there. Don't know whatcher talkin' 'bout."

"No, I remember," Nûrzgrat insisted, more certain with each intake of breath. "You were there. Don't you fucking deny it, you were _there_!"

"He weren't there, stupid _baalak_ ," the Orcess snarled.

"Why deny it?" Brytta snapped. "Answer him!"

"I weren't!" the Orc roared defensively. "It weren't me! I weren't never there!"

"I never forget a stink, 'specially of fuckin' _snaga_ ," Nûrzgrat snarled provocatively. "How long'd it take yuh to wash the whiteskin smell off yuh?"

He felt the Orcess stiffen against him.

"Yuh stunk like _tark_ ," she breathed. "I remember. 'At was after duh floodin' that yuh came."

Smirking at the Orc's frightened look, Nûrzgrat nodded. "Yeah. Try again, Orc. You were there when I went down to them pits. Were yuh there when the place got flooded? You find a way out? Who'd you take with you?"

" _Answer him!_ " Brytta barked, her longsword's blade now pointing between the Orc's eyes.

"All right!" he bellowed, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his hands in surrender. Brytta lowered her sword. "I were there. Near fifty fuckin' years; are yuh happy now?"

"Nariin," the Orcess murmured, sagging against the Uruk. "Why'd yuh lie tuh me? Yuh was watchin' Kraibûf go round duh bend, not knowin' what come of Nausaar, and yuh _knew_. He were her shaûk, and yuh didn't say nothin'."

"I didn't know _that_ ," Nariin snapped angrily, then softened his tone. "Didn't want nobody knowin'. It were a bad place, Shaataz. Real bad. Didn't wanna remember it."

"Who'd yuh come out with?" Nûrzgrat demanded. "Did the Pitmaster make it? Did he get out?"

"Probably. I dunno," the Orc muttered. "Soon as he knew shit was comin', he buggered off. Never saw'im comin' down the tunnel I used. Just me'n... Just me."

"You and who else?" the Uruk snapped, struggling to hide his disappointment. If the Pitmaster was lost, so was his best chance of learning something about his father. Unless...

"Breeders, ah'right?" Nariin snarled. "I set loose some breeders and took'em out. Got five. 'S'all I had time fer."

"And what did you do with them?" Brytta demanded, raising her sword point to his nose again.

"Saw'em to a village and set'em loose, whatchou think I fuckin' did with'em?" the Orc retorted. "Got no use fer _tarks_. And... guess it didn't seem right, messin' with'em or eatin'em after all'at went on in them pits. Best just tuh... tuh leave'em be. Had enough, I'll warrant."

"How much do you remember," Nûrzgrat said tightly, "about the mountain Orcs? The ones _shark_ _û_ started with?"

Nariin's lips formed a grim line and he stared into the Uruk's eyes. "I remember enough."

"Remember years?"

"Aye. Had tuh," the Orc nodded slowly.

"How 'bout this'un," Nûrzgrat growled. Steadying himself, he recited the numbers etched into his chest. "Year of 2993. Ring a bell? Tunnel one, cell three?"

Taking a deep breath, Nariin reluctantly searched his memories. There were so many years, so many Orcs. But that year was special... "Aye," he finally replied, nodding with certainty. "'At was the last year them mountain Orcs was brought in fer breedin'. They was all killed off 'fore their whelps even come outta the mud. Yeah."

"Tunnel one," Nûrzgrat pressed. "Cell three."

"Fuck you," Nariin growled under his breath, but he tried to remember. The desperate look on the _baalak's_ face told him what he'd always suspected, but being buried in the cell block among the breeders for so long, he could never be sure. They weren't told about their lineages. The Uruk-hai were made like weapons and used, but not told _how_ they were made. Or more precisely, _from whom_ they were made. It was something an untainted Orc took for granted. Apparently, all their Master told them was numbers, and numbers told an Orc nothing.

Most Orcs, anyway.

"Yeah, I remember," he nodded. "Tunnel one was... was full'uh them Orcs from the White Mountains. Some of'em bragged 'bout bein' from... from further north'n'at, but... most of'em was from... from... some clan..." Wracking his brain, he managed to dredge up a name. "Shatûpshaatii. 'At was the bunch in tunnel one."

Nûrzgrat's arms slackened, and his sword lowered. His breath escaped in a slow sigh. His da came from a clan called Shatûpshaatii. He couldn't speak for a moment, and just stood there with his mouth slightly open. The Orc gave him an understanding look.

Quick as a whip, the Orcess twisted out of Nûrzgrat's hold and ducked under his arms as he tried to snatch her again. She paused for only a moment in the entrance to the chamber, an unfathomable look on her face, then she bolted down the tunnel and was gone.

"Dammit!" Brytta swore. "Nûrzgrat, she will bring others. We must hurry."

"Come on," the Uruk growled, grabbing Nariin by the throat. "You can tell me some more on the way."

Brytta took charge of Burbur, pulling him to his feet and pushing him into the passageway. "Quickly, now," she urged.

"Why'd yuh keep a secret like'at, Nariin?" Burbur hissed. Without his face pressed into the rock floor, he was able to speak more freely.

"Everything Kraibûf said 'bout'at shit hole were true," Nariin growled.

"Never mind that shit," Nûrzgrat probed. "Cell three. Remember who was in it?"

"Lots of fuckers was in'at cell," the Orc groused. "Gimme a minute tuh think."

"A minute's all yuh got."

"Are we close?" Brytta asked Burbur, and the Orc nodded.

"Just here," he said. "This big'un. 'At's where they keep'im."

"Him?" Nariin said. "You talkin' 'bout the _tark_?"

"Yes," she replied. "Does he still live?"

"Aye," he nodded. "Yer welcome to'im. Whole clan'll rest easier with his ass outta the den."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Brytta said grimly.

Haste robbed the party of stealth, as did their voices, but it seemed their coming was unexpected in any case. In the middle of a wide chamber lit sparsely with pots of burning oil, on a thick bed of various animal furs, lay Fulak face down and groaning in pain. Shagal was startled from her ministrations, poised in mid-rub with her hands upon her partner's bare back.

"The fuck?"

"Hello again," Brytta greeted her coldly, pushing Burbur to his knees and tipping him face down again. The Orc grunted resignedly and lay still. "I can't say I'm pleased to see you again, bitch."

"Yuh little cunt," Shagal snarled, rising to her feet and drawing a dagger. "Shoulda killed yuh both."

"I haven't the time or inclination to bandy words with you," the woman replied. Her gaze flicked to a dim corner where a naked figure huddled. "We've come for Faelur. You will release him, or there will be trouble. I don't think I need to remind you what sort of debt is owed you and your... whatever he is."

Holding Nariin at bay with his sword, Nûrzgrat said in a passably reasonable tone, "Fair trade. That lump'uh shit under my mate for the lump'uh shit in the corner. Can't get a better deal'n that, eh?"

"Oh, the cunt's yer mate now, is she?" Shagal replied haughtily, cocking her hip. "You're welcome, yuh ungrateful fucks. Da'll laugh hisself intuh the Void over that."

"Nûrzgrat, I believe it is time we raised the stakes," Brytta said smoothly. Advancing on Shagal with her blade raised, she smirked as the much longer reach forced the Orcess to retreat.

"What're yuh doin'?" she hissed, beginning to panic. Her eyes popped when the woman seized Fulak by the hair and yanked him howling to his knees. "Let'im go! He's hurt! Leave'im be! It's me yuh want!"

"He owes me," Brytta snarled, pressing her sharp blade to the Orc's throat. "There is little that will satisfy me short of his blood."

"Yuh came fer the _tark_!" Nariin cried, trying in vain to jerk out of Nûrzgrat's firm grip. "Shagal, give'em the bastard and they'll go."

"You let go'uh Fulak, 'n I'll give yuh yer _tark_ ," Shagal said shakily, her eyes locked on her wincing partner.

"It doesn't work like that," Brytta said in mocking kindness. "You will not prey upon Men ever again. You endanger your folk, your _kin_ by doing so. No, this is the last of it."

"Your turn, bitch," Nûrzgrat growled. "Bond to that bit of filth, or my mate takes yours away from yuh."

"No!" Shagal shrieked, falling to her knees. Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper. " _No_."

"What's it gonna be?" Nûrzgrat chuckled, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Yuh want his head attached or not? Brytta ain't real happy with'im. He got a bit too friendly. Grabbed some bits he shouldn't've. Come to think of it, yuh grabbed some'uh _my_ bits yuh had no right to. Ain't thinkin' I'm feelin' all that sorry for yuh."

"Shagal," Fulak breathed hopelessly. His back was on fire, as it had been for days. He hadn't slept and had barely eaten, it hurt so much. Maybe his mate had tended him and soothed him, but he felt no confidence that she would do it. She didn't want that bond, not with him. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the _tark_ woman's legs and swallowed hard.

His stomach clenched and he wished his heart would stop beating right now, knowing Shagal would rather watch him die than give in to a _tark_.

"Shall I count to three?" Brytta suggested lightly. "We haven't time for your whimpering."

"I ain't whimperin'," Shagal sobbed, and swiftly bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. "I ain't..."

A rough voice suddenly echoed loudly in the chamber. "Let'im go, yuh fuckin' _tark_!"


	8. Blood is Sometimes Thicker Than Really Dumbass Moves by Family Members. Sometimes.

Brytta almost allowed a moment of resigned despair take hold, before straightening defiantly and pressing the blade more firmly against Fulak's throat.

"I'll do nothing of the sort," she replied evenly, staring down the broad-shouldered Orc who'd just entered the chamber, a crudely-made club in his hand. Beside him stood Shaataz, huffing and clutching her belly. Once more, the woman's sympathies were stirred; that Orcess was in no condition for this, and it pained Brytta that their plans had gone so awry that a pregnant female was threatened.

They hadn't given the possibility of failure a thought, nor come up with any sort of contingency plan. They certainly hadn't imagined that, of the handful of Orcs in this den, there might be one who possessed knowledge Nûrzgrat could not resist or deny.

"Back the fuck off, or they're both gettin' it!" Nûrzgrat roared, whirling to put Nariin between himself and the group of Orcs in the entryway. It seemed the entire clan had turned out for this: he recognized the whithered but still formidable Akhûna, her mate Barash leaning against her. Another Orcess held Barash's other arm, her face worried and her eyes frequently darting nervously to the large Orc in the front. The pregnant Shaataz seemed unable to speak for a moment; she looked winded from running through the tunnels to gather her folk. Poking her head around the larger Orcs' shoulders and trying to get a peek into the chamber was a nervous Kraibûf.

Unexpectedly, Shagal did not rally and become defiant now that her family group was before her. She looked fearful, in fact.

"I knew this day would come," Akhûna growled in a low voice, her furious gaze on Shagal. "Carried yuh too long. Worried 'bout yuh dyin' in that place. Was too soft on yuh. Always too soft." Glancing hatefully at Barash, who looked away sheepishly, she snarled, "Now yuh see it? Yuh see what lettin'er play has done? And it's _those_ two: the _tark_ and the _baalak_. Too soft with _them,_ too."

Though tempted to mock the Orcess's claim of 'softness' toward her and Nûrzgrat, Brytta swallowed her retort. Their position was made a hundred times more precarious. This stand-off would not last forever.

"We've come for Faelur," she told them again. "And to call an end to Shagal's activities. She puts your clan, _and_ its location, at risk by capturing Men for her amusement. Do you realize your fellow, Burbur, was taken by Elves? Elves who witnessed Faelur's capture?"

"No!" Kraibûf shrieked, and began pushing her way through the crowd. "No no no no no no!"

"'M right'ere!" Burbur called from the floor, struggling to roll over. "'M all right!"

The young Orcess's knees gave way well before she reached her mate's form, and she scrambled on all fours to get to him. Neither Brytta nor Nûrzgrat made a move to hinder her; both were made uncomfortable by the display of relieved weeping Kraibûf showed as she wrapped her arms tightly around the Orc and sobbed openly.

"'S'all right," he said, his voice rough yet gentle. He rested his cheek against Kraibûf's head. "They fixed me up and brung me back. 'S'all right."

" _Golug-hai_ messed him up a bit, but he'll live," Nûrzgrat said gruffly. "We just want that pile'uh shit in the corner."

"Did you lead _golug-hai_ to this place?" Barash growled. "Traitorous half-Man."

"No, we did not," Brytta answered. "We saw to it that they did not follow."

"Kill'em, did yuh?" the patriarch smirked.

"We set our clanmates to guard'em," Nûrzgrat snapped, bristling. "Didn't see no reason to drag'em along. All we want's Faelur."

"And one other thing," Brytta reminded him. The Uruk smirked and nodded.

"Tell that cunt whelp'uh yers to bond to Fulak, or Brytta's cuttin' off his head," Nûrzgrat snarled. "And I'm cuttin' off _this_ fucker's head." Though it pained him terribly, standing so close to the only person who could tell him the one thing he couldn't live without knowing, it was some comfort knowing that he'd likely go to join his da moments after killing the little bastard.

"Do it, Shagal," Shaataz gasped. "It ain't worth losin'em both. _Do it_."

"Don't you... don't you dare... I ain't..." Shagal's eyes couldn't leave Fulak's, or ignore the resignation in his expression. The half-smile. The nod.

"'S'all right, my pet," he said softly. "I understand."

"I can't let nobody own me," she whispered desperately. Her pleading gaze went to Akhûna. "I can't be owned, mum. _Please_."

The matriarch drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "I... don't... care. Yer stupid shit cost Skût her tongue. Now yuh been seen by _golug-hai_. Yuh brought a _tark_ someone'd miss into my den, and here come the folk to fetch'im. Yer a clumsy fool, Shagal. Bondin' to Fulak'll cut that shit down. Do it."

"Da?" Shagal breathed, appealing to her father. Barash had always given her free rein. He _understood_. Getting the better of _tarks_ was in their blood, wasn't it?

"If yuh don't," the large Orc scowled, "I'll fuck yuh up so bad yuh won't never get another cock up yer twat. Tired of yer shit, Shagal. Still owe yuh for Skût." The silent Orcess reached out and lightly touched his arm, cooing briefly. His expression softened for a moment, then returned to harshness.

Shagal's eyes scanned the angry faces, faces that should have been turned toward the intruders, not her. She hadn't done anything different. Nothing _wrong_. " _Tarks_ deserve all they get," she snarled. "They _deserve_ it!"

"I used to think Orcs deserved all the pain and suffering I and my folk gave," Brytta said quietly. "I used to believe there was no value in Orc-kind, no reason to spare them."

"Then yuh met yer _baalak_ an'it all changed," Shagal smirked sarcastically. "Spare _me_."

"No," the woman replied, shaking her head. "I met your clan. In truth, Nûrzgrat's clan has several women in it. It was easy to excuse their... mild temperament with Mannish influences. But you and your folk..." She looked about her, taking in the family group, now seeing some of Akhûna's wizened face in the younger Orcesses. She noted the way Kraibûf all but curled up in Burbur's lap, having freed his hands and helped him sit up. Attack and revenge were not on their minds; the Orcess looked to be right where she always wanted to be, and Burbur's expression was one of profound relief to have her in his arms once more. Even the silent one, Skût, kept a hand on what must be her burly mate, and Akhûna supported her own disabled mate and stood protectively by his side. "You are a family. And you are Orcs. These two things can be the same, and it is clear that they are. I will tell no one of this place, save that Orcs should be left in peace, if that is what they seek."

"Mum," Shaataz finally said, having caught her breath enough to remember why she'd called all the clan to this chamber. "Mum, Nariin ain't been tellin' all duh t'ings he know. He was in Isengard, and he knew Shatûpshaatii folk. Dey was in Isengard. 'At's where dey went!"

Akhûna's face went slack and she blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. Even Shagal was rendered speechless with shock. Recovering more quickly than his _sha_ _û_ _k_ , Barash shot Nariin a furious look. "Why didn't yuh say nothin'?"

Beside him, Skût began to tremble. Her hands began to fly about, and she grunted uncomprehendingly, attempting to make herself understood. Gundul turned to her and tried to sooth her agitation.

"'S'all right," he told her gently. Scowling at Nariin, he growled, "Start talkin', lad. 'At's the name of their clan. What else yuh know?"

Startled, the Orc couldn't answer for a moment.

"Whatchou mean, Shatûpshaatii's the name of yer clan?" Nûrzgrat asked. " _Your_ clan?"

"Aye," Barash breathed, nodding slowly. "Long time ago, away up north. Some of us moved south, intuh these mountains. Then that Dwarf business in the east took a load of us..."

"You're sayin'," Nûrzgrat growled, tightening his grip on Nariin's throat, "that I was sired by one'uh _their_ clanmates? That's what yer sayin'?"

"I dunno!" the Orc sqeaked, trying to pry Nûrzgrat's arm loose enough to breathe. "That year... all them cells... was filled with Shatûpshaatii Orcs! Till they all done what they came fer, then they was butchered! 'At's all I know!"

"Butchered?" Akhûna roared furiously. Barash wobbled on his one leg as his _shaûk_ took a threatening step toward Nariin. With difficulty, she steadied herself. "Names. Tell us names. Who was there?"

"Yeah, in cell three," Nûrzgrat prompted. "My da was in cell three. Who was he?"

"Shatûpshaatii Orcs," the matriarch snarled venomously, "do not sire _baalaku_ bastards." Grimacing, she turned her face away, too revolted by the idea to say anything more.

"Let him talk!" Shaataz demanded, taking a step toward Nûrzgrat. Her _shaûk_ was struggling against the Uruk, barely able to draw enough breath to stay conscious. Nûrzgrat sheepishly loosened his hold.

"Fuck you, yuh bastard!" Nariin gasped when he could speak again. "Fuck... fucker in cell three... worst fucking fucker in cell three right at the end there... 'at had to be yer da, yuh fuck! Only said his name a couple times. Tryin' tuh... tuh rally the others and get a riot goin'. Cost Master dozens'uh _snaga_ keepin' him in his fuckin' cell. _Hated_ bringin' that bastard food cause he liked tuh get the jump on yuh when the meat wagon come through."

"Who was he?" Nûrzgrat growled, jerking his arm. Nariin choked and coughed.

"Sûmatuga," the Orc gasped. "Fucker's name was Sûmatuga."

Again, Nûrzgrat's entire frame seemed to sag with the revelation. But he could only bask in the echo of his sire's name for a moment before the Orcs exploded.

For several moments, no coherent words could be discerned. Brytta and Nûrzgrat's gazes met in confusion, unsure what was happening. The silent one's frantic gesturing had escalated, Shaataz had sunk to the floor wailing, and Akhûna looked close to fainting. The big Orc was forced to take over holding up Barash, for the matriarch had suddenly lost her ability to stand or indeed _see_ , it seemed by her staggering attempt to reach a perch to lean against.

The other Orcs, including Shagal, appeared just as taken aback as the intruders.

"Bring me over'ere, Gundul," Barash breathed unsteadily. "Set me down, there's a good lad." Gundul half carried the old Orc to the rock Akhûna had collapsed upon and eased him down next to her. Barash embraced his sobbing _shaûk_ , murmuring soothing words to her.

Stifling his own relief, Nûrzgrat looked to the only one not losing their grip. "You, Gundul. What's this about?" Gundul shrugged, just as much at a loss as the others.

Barash didn't speak for a moment. His brow bunched and his jaw ground as he struggled to master his own shock at Nariin's revelation. Swallowing an uncomfortable lump several times, he finally said in a quavering voice, "'At name... we know it. Was... one of our lads. Sent a load of our lads with Bolg to see to them Dwarves and... and... Only a couple come back, see. So we knew... 'at was a big battle cause... not many... come out of it."

"Sorry I, uh... called him... 'fucker,'" Nariin muttered guiltily. "He were a tough bloke and no mistake. There just weren't no point, see? Master got a hold of'em and... 'at was it. They was done fer."

Nodding, the patriarch looked up at Nûrzgrat. "Set'im loose, boy. We ain't gonna do nothin' to yuh. Or yer _shaûk_."

"Why?" Shagal screamed, infuriated. "They come in'ere wavin' swords and makin' demands, tellin' lies 'bout some dead Orcs..."

"Shut yer hole!" Shaataz bellowed, wiping tears off her face. "Yuh don' know nothin'. Yuh don' know."

"What don't I know?" her sister snapped impatiently.

Before Shaataz could steady herself enough to reply, Skût cautiously approached Brytta, her hands raised placatingly.

"What does she want?" the woman asked, keeping her eye warily on the silent Orcess.

"Let his ass go too," Gundul replied. "Barash said we ain't gonna do nothin' to yuh, so we won't."

Glancing questioningly at Nûrzgrat, who gave a short nod before releasing Nariin, Brytta conceded, letting Fulak fall face down on the ground with a whump.

"I do not understand," Brytta said slowly. Though she no longer held Fulak as hostage, she did not sheathe her sword. Shagal slowly crept closer to Fulak's prone form, her eyes darting between her family and Brytta. The _tark_ only glared down at her, doing nothing. Shagal reached out and touched Fulak's hand. Sighing, he turned his hand over to clasp hers.

"He were our _brother_ ," Shaataz said slowly. "He were gone 'fore you come along, Shagal. Didn't come back after that battle, so we... we stopped talkin' 'bout'im. Just figgered... figgered Sûma were dead like all duh rest." As if the mere mention of her brother's name brought long-forgotten grief, the Orcess sank to the floor weeping. Nariin cautiously edged away from Nûrzgrat, then knelt by his _sha_ _û_ _k_ to comfort her.

"Sweet Valar," Brytta breathed, covering her mouth with her hand and looking at Nûrzgrat.

Nûrzgrat's brow furrowed deeply and his eyes scanned the Orc clan. There was a very unpleasant calculation going on his head, one he never imagined. "So... what yer sayin', then... is that my sire... was Sûmatuga of Shatûpshaatii clan, and... he was... your _son_?" He stared hard at Barash, hoping he'd missed something along the way.

Unfortunately, Barash sighed and nodded. "Aye. He was."

" _Baalak_ bastard," Akhûna hissed, fixing Nûrzgrat with a hateful look. She slowly shook her head in denial, her eyes shimmering. "No boy of mine would whelp a _baalak_. Not fer no wizard, not for nobody."

"He did, though," Nariin said as gently as he could. "All of'em did. Didn't have no choice. Akhûna, they was kept in cages with a _tark_ female. After awhile... well, there weren't nothin' else to do. They was beaten down and hopeless... fuck, it were the saddest thing you ever seen. I remember your boy... kept tryin' to get out." Sighing, he shook his head. "Weren't no point."

"How'd he die?" Nûrzgrat asked quietly. He was unwilling to accept that _his_ father was simply 'butchered' like all the rest. Not such a defiant Orc as Nariin described.

"Like all of'em," Nariin replied sadly. Then he furrowed his brow, his memory clearing after a moment. "Nah, wait a tick," he said slowly. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "No, not like the rest. He pissed off Master somethin' fierce. Me and some lads was called to drag his ass down. Brung him to where the whelps was taken from their dams." Opening his eyes, he stared wide-eyed at Nûrzgrat. "Saw you taken outta yer dam, I did."

Nûrzgrat blinked. Somehow it had never occurred to him that at any point in his life, he was as small as Ashmau or even Hontor.

"That ain't no kinda proof," Akhûna snorted.

"It's comin' back tuh me. Can't seem tuh forget nothin'," Nariin said harshly. There was more he could tell, _far_ more, but he didn't dare. The old Orcess was furious enough. But he could say _this_. He could give that _baalak_ something back that his master had no business taking from him. "'At poor bastard Orc what killed all them lads, and got drug down tuh the depths tuh see his whelp brung out... 'at were yer boy, Sûmatuga." Pointing at Nûrzgrat, he snarled, "An' 'at's _his_ boy. I saw it. An' I _remember_ it."

The matriarch couldn't bring herself to look at the _baalak_. Nariin's words made her flinch and wince as though the insult of Nûrzgrat's existence was too painful to endure. She slowly raised her hand, blocking the Uruk from her sight.

"Go," she hissed. "Take yer _tark_ with yuh. Get out now."

It was on the tip of Brytta's tongue to demand Shagal's comeuppance, but one glance at the devastated look on her mate's face convinced her that a swift departure was preferred. Yet she could not stomach closing the door behind them on the way out.

"We will go," she said, sheathing her sword as a sign of good faith. "We know the way to your den, just as you now know how to reach our settlement. We will keep our distance, if that is your wish, but... I think Nûrzgrat will agree... you are welcome in our settlement if you... want to come." Glancing at Shagal and Fulak with curled lip, she muttered, "Some of you are welcome, at any rate." Softening her tone as best she could, she turned to Akhûna, "Like it or not, Nûrzgrat shares your blood. He is a living reminder of the son you lost." The Orcess refused to look at either of them. "Perhaps one day you will accept that."

* * *

Not even the bite of the crisp night air seemed able to stir Faelur from his distraction. Brytta turned the spitted meat over the crackling fire, glancing frequently at the silent, shivering man. He hadn't spoken a word since they left the Orcs' den, or shown much of a reaction to finally leaving their clutches. It seemed he wasn't aware that his liberation had been managed at all.

He simply followed where she guided him, crouched when it was needed to exit the low tunnel, and shuffled silently at her side. If she didn't have a hand on his elbow, urging his forward motion, he would stop moving entirely.

Nûrzgrat was little better. He'd left the den lost in thought. Brytta could guess a good deal of the things flitting through her mate's mind most of the time, but now... His dark and brooding mood seemed to tell the most strongly how little she truly knew of him.

He'd come out of the den with something he never expected to know, yet longed to learn. In the space of minutes, he'd been gifted not just with the memory of a father, but an entire _family_ , whole and alive and mere days away from his home. Only to be cast out for the terrible sin of _existing_.

But Brytta knew this much about Nûrzgrat: he needed to be left alone for a time. Grief would sit firmly in his heart for some while now, and he would battle its hated effects with every part of him. If she urged him to speak of it, he would likely hide behind thoughtless words and cruel remarks. Or he would lose his grip and weep. Neither reaction appealed to her. It was better, she'd found, to let him bring himself to a place of calm before approaching and offering comfort. At the moment, there was one in a far worse state than the Uruk who required her attention.

"Faelur," she said softly, moving slowly so not to startle him, "can you hear me?"

The look on his face now was little different from what she'd seen in the dim light of his tormenters' chamber. His brow was pinched, his eyes unseeing, his mouth slightly open in a silent moan of pain. Perhaps he had taken himself to a place of safety, and could not return. Unsure what else to do, Brytta reached up and lightly touched his cheek.

"Faelur," she called again.

Slowly, the man's eyes drifted toward the sound of her voice. Faelur's brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes began to focus. More than her voice, it was her gentle touch that woke him, so long had it been since he'd felt anything that did not cause him pain. It seemed an age...

"Bronhador?" he breathed in confusion, staring at the woman's face.

"Yes, it is I," she sighed with relief. "But my name is Brytta. Do you remember? I dressed as a man and called myself Bronhador."

He slowly nodded. All his reactions were slow, as though civil interaction was something barely remembered.

"Are you real?" he whispered.

"Yes," she nodded. "I am quite real. You are no longer in the Orcs' den. Do you understand? We are taking you home."

"Not... in the den," he repeated haltingly, his brow furrowing uncertainly. His eyes scanned their surroundings now, finally noticing the dark trees swaying in a light breeze, the crescent moon blinking behind the fluttering leaves, the rich scents of a forest at night... And though Brytta had endeavored to shield his gaze from Nûrzgrat, he caught a glimpse of the Orc across the campfire and sucked in a frightened breath.

"Hush now," Brytta said quickly, putting her hand on his arm. "That is Nûrzgrat. He helped me bring you out. He will do you no harm."

"What... what home... what home will you... you bring me to?" Faelur gasped, his lip quivering. He was beginning to panic, and looked imploringly at Brytta.

She almost felt like a monster for saying it. "We are taking you to the settlement. That is where Mae is. She is still with us." Thinking that it might ease the sudden uptake in the man's horror, she added, "She begged us to come fetch you."

Gradually, the man's terrified breaths slowed. Now a look of desperation joined the fearful look in his eyes. "She will know. She will look at me and _know_." He shook his head and grasped Brytta's wrist. "Don't take me there. Please. I beg you. I don't want her to see... to _know_..."

Though once upon a time, Brytta ridiculed Nûrzgrat for not knowing how to comfort a woman, she found that not only had the same ability eluded her with Hengolwen, she was now at a loss with Faelur. She and Nûrzgrat had bathed the man in a stream and clothed him; none of the scars the Orcs left could be seen once he'd been covered by Nûrzgrat's spares.

"There is nothing to see," she told him reassuringly. "The marks are easily hid-..."

"I cannot hide," Faelur sobbed. "I am... covered in their filth. I can hide nothing." Bowing his head, the man wept without restraint, as though he'd sunk so low no worse opinion of him could possibly exist.

"You are safe now," Brytta said, awkwardly patting his shoulder. "Don't worry yourself. It is all over."

Faelur's sobs turned to mirthless, mad laughter. Raising his eyes to Brytta's, he whispered, "Not yet."

* * *

"See to it, Gundul," Akhûna growled. "I ain't puttin' up with this kinda shit no more."

"Aye," the burly _sha_ _û_ _k_ of Skût replied. The family still huddled in Shagal and Fulak's chamber, reeling from the tale Nariin related once the _baalak_ and his _shaûk_ had left with the _tark_.

Rising to his feet, Gundul crossed the chamber, aiming for Shagal. Whimpering desperately, she tried to scramble out of reach, but he was too fast for her, and Fulak was in no condition to protect her even if he'd wanted to. Collaring the Orcess, Gundul dragged her by the scruff across the hides and pressed her face down next to where Fulak lay helpless.

Shagal's eyes darted wildly. Her sisters stood by with stern, cold looks on their faces. Akhûna was half turned away, her gaze elsewhere entirely. Barash's expression was sympathetic, but he made no move to interfere.

She grunted as Gundul settled his bulk on top of her, nearly crushing her body beneath him. His muscular arm was pressed into the back of her neck, forcing her to face Fulak.

"Now then," he grunted in a mockingly conversational tone, "yer gonna bond to'im. Yer gonna do it now. Or I break yer fuckin' neck. Yuh know I will. Yer shit near cost Skût her life. This time almost brung _golug-hai_ down on our heads. If yer kin don't mean nothin' to yuh, yuh ain't no good tuh nobody."

"Leave'er be," Fulak protested weakly. "She don't want it."

"I don't fuckin' care if she wants it or not," the large Orc snorted. Leaning down close to the Orcess's ear, he hissed, "Yuh know I ain't gonna break yer neck right away. Got a lotta stuff I been wantin' tuh do to yuh, ever since I had tuh spend all'em nights holdin' my _shaûk_ tight enough so death wouldn't take'er. Remember how weak she was, how long it took fer the bleedin' tuh stop? You remember that? Ah, how I wanted tuh rip yer lungs out back then. So do me a favor and say no. Defy yer mum and da. Sell yer sisters fer _tark_ cock. I'm hopin' yuh do, so's I can tear yer ass apart little by little, a piece at a time, till yuh got no more ass tuh lose." Chuckling coldly, he snarled, "Then if I feel like, I'll break yer neck."

"Hate... you... Gundul... fuck," Shagal gasped furiously, frustrated tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't get Fulak out of her sight, the way Gundul held her down. "Don't... want... this..."

"I can lay here all night, bitch," the Orc said easily. "Don't matter tuh me. When I get tired of it, though, 'at's when the fun starts. So maybe yuh better think on it a bit more."

"Mum! Da!" the Orcess called desperately.

If possible, Akhûna turned even further away. "My gals're settled with their _shaûku._ They keep the family goin'. They make me proud." She paused for a moment and swallowed grimly. Her face twitched slightly. "I don't hear nobody but my... my _good_ girls."

As if to emphasize the matriarch's judgment, Gundul jerked his forearm harder against Shagal's neck, forcing a despairing cry from the Orcess. "Last chance, then I get my tools."

Feeling abandoned, Shagal let her gaze fall on Fulak. "How can I?" she whimpered.

A sad smile curved his mouth. "'S'all right, my pet. I know... I know how it is with yuh. Ain't nobody knows yuh better, I reckon, eh? You just... do whatcha want. I'll... I'll come after. Yuh won't wait long, then... well, I guess we can... maybe you'll... put up with me then, eh?"

"I don't put up with yuh now," Shagal chuckled humorlessly. Her voice shook. "Yuh worthless sod. Yuh know I don't wanna be..."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded. Tears began to slide down his cheeks and over his nose. "Didja think I'd ever do that to yuh? Shagal my one, I'd... I'd do anything fer yuh. I'd die fer yuh. Yuh know I would."

"Yuh promise?" she asked softly. "Yuh promise yuh won't... keep me down or nothin'?"

Laughing a little, he replied, "Ah, my one. Ain't nobody can keep my gal down. Ain't no use tryin'."

"Then... I suppose... I could..." Struggling to keep her gaze steady, Shagal held her breath for a moment. It was there, within easy reach, as it had been for years and years. The nagging feeling just beneath the surface, calling her to this Orc who matched her in every way. She touched it tentatively, wondering how it would feel when she embraced it, accepted it, gave in to it. Fulak's face swam before her eyes, his brow arching hopefully, a slight smile playing on his lips. Her breath began to quicken as she instinctively resisted, for allowing a bond to take hold was serious business. It was forever, and it changed everything.

She felt as though she gripped the sides of a tunnel sloping inexorably down, down into an unknown darkness. Once she let go, as soon as she relented and gave herself to the fall, there was no climbing back, no stopping herself.

"Easy now," Fulak whispered. "I'll be there when yuh land, my one, my _shaûk_." He reached out and took hold of her hand, squeezing reassuringly. "I'm right here."

Tears streaming down her face and her lip quivering, Shagal let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For anyone who wasn't aware, the tale of Sûmatuga is told in a separate story, Isengard's Deceit: Half Truths and Half Orcs.


	9. Blasts from the Past

While Nûrzgrat and Brytta were talking their way out of the Orcs' den, the worry over their fate came to a head in the settlement. Tensions were already high due to the departure of the Elves. Morkoth, who'd been watching them at the time, kicked himself for allowing a startled cry from his whelp to distract him. Sandy had been on hand immediately – Ashmau had merely lost his balance and fallen over; there was no need for Morkoth's assistance as well as Sandy's – and no harm had come to the lad. In seeking to mend his error, however, Morkoth found quickly that it was too late: the _golug-hai_ had slipped out of sight and disappeared without a trace.

While he grumbled under his breath and aggressively fletched new arrows, chastising himself and worrying about what his mistake might cost Nûrzgrat and Brytta, the rest of the settlement's folk sought to occupy themselves the best they could while they waited anxiously for their leader's return. Brie sat cross-legged on the ground by Mae, who'd taken up the task of darning clothing torn by wayward Orc claws. Hontor had rolled onto her stomach on the ground in front of her mother, and was looking around curiously, her head still a bit wobbly. Nearby, Ilsa and Ashmau were consumed with watching a spider weave its intricate web across several blades of grass.

Avoiding everyone, Raz brooded by the horse, sometimes stroking its coat as he glared resentfully at Ashmau.

Sandy had just hauled a bucket of water up from the river to boil over the cookfire when she noticed Hontor's determined effort to hold up her head. Grinning, she set the bucket down and knelt beside the baby. "Who's the little adventurer, huh?" she crooned, smoothing her hand over Hontor's fuzzy head. "She'll be toddling after the kids in no time. I love it when they get their first look around. Everything's shiny and new to them."

"I can't wait for her to start sitting up," Brie agreed with a smile. "That's when Ashmau really started interacting with us." She lightly patted the baby's bottom, and Hontor swivelled her head around to look at her mother. The movement overbalanced her, and she fell over sideways with a startled little mewling noise.

Even as Brie was reaching for her to set her right, Ashmau came hurrying over as fast as his stout little legs could carry him, and squatted down to tip Hontor back over. Both mothers smiled fondly at the boy, but their exclamations of how cute his deed was were halted before they could be voiced.

Ghru, always forgotten due to his lengthy silences, strode over and pushed Ashmau roughly to the side, then scooped his whelp up into his arms. "Get your fuckin' hands off'er!" he roared.

"What the fuck was that?" Sandy snapped incredulously as she dove for her son and gathered him to her. The boy was just getting over the shock of being knocked over and had begun to cry. Across the settlement, Raz stood frozen, wondering if his hateful thoughts had somehow caused Ghru's unexpected explosion.

"Ghru!" Brie cried, leaping to her feet. "He's just a baby! Why did you do that?"

Just as swiftly, Morkoth dropped the arrows and advanced on the offending male with a furious roar. Getting closer to Ghru than he ever had before, Morkoth would have bumped chests challengingly had the whelp not been between them. He balled up his fists, readying for battle as soon as the child was out of the way. "Explain yourself," he hissed through clenched teeth, "and it better be a good fucking reason."

The scarred Uruk set his jaw tightly and trembled. His breaths came irregularly, and his eyes darted from one shocked face to another before settling on Morkoth. But he did not back down. Narrowing his eyes, Ghru snarled, "He touched her."

"Only to help," Morkoth replied warningly in a low voice. "Nothing else."

"Are you sure? _Can_ you be sure?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Morkoth let his breath out slowly. His brow furrowed helplessly at the question and he looked down at his son sobbing with confusion and hurt, curled up in his mate's arms. Hontor was likewise weeping against her father's chest, and Brie was shifting nervously from foot to foot, clearly wanting to remove Hontor from the vicinity of the tense, aggressive males. "Come with me," Morkoth finally snarled.

Ghru reluctantly passed his daughter to Brie.

"Are you all right?" she asked her mate worriedly. He made no reply, yet gave her a look she understood too well. Nodding, she retreated. Sandy seemed ready to launch a barrage at Ghru, but Brie grabbed the woman's wrist and shook her head. "Let it go." The two women watched as the Uruks moved to the far side of the settlement, then disappeared into the trees.

"What's going on?" Sandy hissed as Mae looked over her son. "He hasn't done a damn thing, then all of a sudden..."

"Sandy," Brie interrupted sharply as she stroked her sobbing child to calmness. "He's protecting our child."

"From _Ash_?" her friend cried, shocked. "What...?"

" _Sandy_ ," Brie repeated more urgently. "Let them sort it out for now; I'll talk to him later. How's Ash?"

Looking to Mae, Sandy replied hesitantly, "He's... he's fine, right?" The healer nodded.

"I don't understand," Mae murmured. "Why would he think such a small child...?"

"I don't get it either," Brie replied, staring concernedly toward the break in the trees where the Uruks had gone. "But Morkoth does."

* * *

Ghru was grateful that Morkoth had chosen this place for his dressing down. There was a clearing in the opposite direction, off behind the shelter he shared with Brie, to which he'd retreated on many occasions before Hontor was born. It was quiet, far enough from the settlement that he could be alone, and no one else knew about it. He certainly didn't want any of the other males in the settlement to know where he hid. Though perhaps the fucking _golug-hai_ were aware, his thoughts grumbled. Were they watching him now? Watching and laughing?

"Sit," Morkoth ordered, pointing to a large rock just off the path, "and tell me what madness possesses you, that you think _my son_ would rape your daughter."

Curling his lip defiantly, Ghru refused to obey, and crossed his arms over his chest. "He is one of us. He will be just like we were. And my whelp..." Swallowing hard, Ghru faltered. He didn't even want to say the words. "My whelp..."

"Sit down," Morkoth offered less angrily. This time, Ghru sank onto the rock and stared at nothing. "I know what you think. What you fear. It is my fear as well." Ghru looked up sharply, and Morkoth nodded. "I don't want to believe it... but I fear it all the same."

"You... think... our whelps...," Ghru muttered uncertainly, "will not... hate or... hurt...?"

"We don't, not anymore," the tall Uruk replied, though his mask of confidence was transparent to Ghru. The older Uruk huffed skeptically. "Look at what Thakûf and Raz have become," Morkoth pressed as if to convince them both. "Thakûf cares for Gwen; Raz cares for Ilsa. I think that, because Ashmau and Hontor are close in age, they will look to one another for play, and perhaps more, one day." Placing a hand firmly on Ghru's shoulder, he added, "We should let them."

"I don't... want... Hontor... to be like me," the scarred Uruk whispered haltingly. His gaze was intent, his voice a desperate growl. "Used..."

"That will not happen," Morkoth told him firmly. "You know I won't allow it. I won't ignore it or look away. It will not even _begin_."

Ghru nodded concession, bowing his head. "I remember. Should've... thanked you."

"There was no need," Morkoth replied. Sitting on the rock next to Ghru, he sighed. "Nûrzgrat could not be everywhere."

After a few silent moments, Ghru asked a question he'd always wondered about. One could assume the answer, given the way things were in Isengard, but Morkoth always seemed... above it.

"Did you ever do it? To one of us?"

Morkoth hesitated, then bowed his head. "Once. Before I saw what... Saw you. Then I met Brennan and learned of Men's ways."

"Dunlending?"

Morkoth nodded. "I thought... believed..." Sighing, he added, "It was encouraged by some. You remember."

Ghru nodded as well. "I cannot recall now how many times I did it. I was... strong, once. That is often how I proved it."

"Under Nûrzgrat's command?" Morkoth asked with surprise. His recollection was that, even as a _pizdur_ , Nûrzgrat was mostly indifferent about matters of dominance. He didn't support the rape of Uruks, but he didn't condemn it either. Except with regards to Ghru.

"No. I was not his those first few years. He had not earned his place. I served another _pizdur_. When I was... discarded by our Master, Nûrzgrat..." Ghru took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He saw value in me."

"He was always wise," Morkoth said encouragingly. "And he has good eyes." Glancing at the scarred Uruk, he added, "You are valued _here_ , Ghru. Do not forget that."

"It is... difficult... to believe." A mirthless chuckle rumbled briefly in Ghru's chest. "She should be with another."

"She chooses you," Morkoth reminded him.

"Why?" Ghru's tone was bewildered, as though he knew there was no answer, and he'd given up seeking one. Yet he could not stop asking, or wondering how it could possibly be so.

"Because whatever you did long ago," Morkoth supplied, "is forgiven."

"I have done things..."

"So have we all. We did what was demanded of us. We did not know otherwise." Recalling Brennan, the Dunlending who didn't follow in the footsteps of his more vicious fellows, or indulge their same hate, the one who schooled Morkoth in honor and the true meaning of courage, he amended, "Not all of us."

"I never told you," Ghru said quietly, rubbing his eyes roughly. "It was me who urged Nûrzgrat to pull you into our company." A strained chuckle escaped the Uruk. "It would... likely amuse you to know: Batar was not killed in battle."

Morkoth froze, unable to look at the Uruk beside him. With great difficulty, he quietly said, "How... I... I thought... no one knew..."

"I heard him laughing about it," Ghru shrugged, seemingly indifferent to Morkoth's discomfort. He had endured far worse, for far longer. He sometimes forgot that horror and pain were not everyone's daily experience. "You defended me once, so... I silenced him."

Several minutes were required for Morkoth to steady his breathing and gather his wits. He swallowed hard a few times. Only the Uruks who'd been on that march knew; one by one, those involved had 'disappeared,' suffered 'accidents,' mysteriously didn't respond to a mustering call, but Batar... Being a _pizdur_ , he was more difficult to manage.

For anyone except Ghru, apparently.

"Why?"

Ghru looked away, remembering back four years to a moment when he had an ounce of strength, a spark of defiance, enough of... _something_ to concern himself about someone else's plight for once. "You were young, and still useful; didn't deserve to be..."

"Thank you," Morkoth said quickly. If neither of them spoke it out loud, he could push it back into the shadows where it belonged. Yet still... "How?

"Cut out his tongue," Ghru replied, a malicious grin on his face. "Then made him choke on it."

Morkoth nodded appreciatively, unable to smile though the Uruk officer's fate was a satisfying one. Bits and pieces of that day flashed in his memory, unwilling to settle back into the darkness, and he winced.

There was a part of him, though, that would always stare back at him and say, _You deserved it._

* * *

Ever since Gwen nudged Thakûf awake that morning, he'd been lost in his own thoughts. Memories of what he'd said to her, what he'd done and _almost_ done, plagued him throughout his watch. He kept reliving every horrible, ugly word that spilled out of his stupid mouth. Then to follow up that filth with a trip to the bushes... How could she even _look_ at him now? She couldn't look at his face for long; _that_ was certain. Her eyes darted and her cheeks colored. She made herself busy tying up their bedrolls, too distracted to make small talk. The words he'd muttered to himself through a lengthy, humiliated wince during the night came back...

_Don't touch'er, don't get close. Don't even look at'er, Thak. For fuck's sake, don't kiss'er again._

He wished it was as easy to do as it was to say. Thakûf never mentioned to anyone in the settlement that his feelings for Gwen had changed, nor had he asked what a bond did to an Uruk. All he had to go on was crazy Frû, and look what became of him? Nobody else admitted to suffering the same obsession. Had Thakûf alone somehow caught it?

What else could be wrong with him? The young Uruk felt as helpless as he had on that first day of life, clinging to whoever seemed to know what to do. Except there wasn't anyone here this time. He'd gotten hit hard last night, and there was nobody to tell him what was happening. No one to reassure him that it would pass, or get better, or settle down. No one to protect Gwen from her protector.

Unsure what else to do, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes averted, hoping she wouldn't notice while she did the same.

Gwen trudged along in Thakûf's wake, fretting and gnawing her lip. Morning hadn't brought more than a strained smile from the awkward Uruk, barely even a muttered 'good morning.' She hadn't known what to say to him either, for her turbulent thoughts had run wild most of the night. She watched him walking ahead of her now, lingering on the motion of his legs as he stepped over roots and climbed the ever-ascending path higher in to the mountains. Even removed from the moonlight's intimacy, and after such a close brush with something she was not prepared to indulge just yet, she found her thoughts once more descending into what must surely be considered wickedness.

She still wanted to touch him, and feel his warm hands through the cotton of her dress. Perhaps even to place her hand where he'd urged last night. To feel what lay hidden there, and please him somehow. Her mind relived such delicious sensations, both real and imagined, coming dangerously close to conjuring what surrender to her desires might have given her.

Blushing fiercely, she tried to quell those wanton thoughts. Gwen was not raised to want such things. She was not the kind of girl – _woman_ – who even thought about them. Yet how could she keep this young man's attention if she didn't?

Sandy and Brianna were so open, so free in expressing their love, that Gwen felt cold and indifferent by comparison. Surely theirs was the example set before Thakûf, and one he would expect for himself. It was no wonder he retreated from her that morning; she'd rejected his advance, driving him into the bushes in shame. He likely thought she didn't want him, or worse, that she was toying with his affections.

Adding to her doubts was the arrival of her 'monthly friend' during the night. Gwen hoped the aching in her belly would ease by nightfall, and that they might find a stream for washing soon. So far, Thakûf had made no comment, which she attributed to his being unaware. She hoped he would remain in the dark; it was not a subject she had discussed with her father, let alone a boy – _man –_ she cared for.

They hiked along in an awkward silence for hours and hours, stopping only for a brief meal. When the sun hung low in the west, Thakûf suddenly said, "Oi, lookit this," and pointed to something hanging from a tree nearby. Curious, he approached it warily. Gwen took one look and felt her gorge rise.

"What is that?" she hissed, covering her nose and mouth. The stench of death and rot was strong.

"Looks like a deer," Thakûf ventured as he began to circle the hanging corpse. "See the legs? And antlers? Yeah, that's a..."

The Uruk's words were cut off as the well-hidden snare he'd stepped into pulled tight, and yanked him up into the air. Gwen screamed briefly, then rushed over. The startled but otherwise unharmed Uruk hung upside down by one leg, slowly spinning.

"Fuck," he groaned. Gwen was so relieved, she could only laugh somewhat madly.

"Are you all right?" she asked, already looking for a way to cut him down safely.

"I feel like an idiot," he grumbled. Then his eyes flared in alarm. "Ah fuck. This is prob'ly an Orc hunter's trap. Get me down, Gwen. _Hurry_."

"Oh dear." She quickly found the rope end and began sawing at it with her knife. A thousand terrified thoughts, each more frightening than the last, ran through her mind. They couldn't be caught, not so far out in the middle of nowhere, could they? What would they do if they were? How would she defend him? Tears stung her eyes as her efforts became desperate, then a gruff voice spoke nearby.

"The fuck're you?"

Whirling around, Gwen pressed herself against the tree trunk and stared. A grey-skinned, stooped figure peered over the bushes nearby. It was a thin Orc of prodigious age, his loose skin sagging on his bones. A few wisps of hair lay upon his bald head, and his small eyes were intense and red as they looked up at the swinging Uruk. What she could see of him might appear close to collapse from age, but those eyes told a different tale. With a shaking hand, Gwen raised the knife and prepared for a battle she knew she could not win.

"Don't you fuckin' touch'er!" Thakûf barked, his voice taking on a far more threatening tone than she'd ever heard before. He struck out at the Orc with desperately flailing limbs, which only made him spin faster, and sway on the end of the rope. "Back off! Get away from'er!"

"Who?" the aged Orc snapped, easily dodging the hapless Uruk's swipes as though Thakûf were little more threatening than an annoying fly. His red eyes flicked about until they settled on Gwen. He blinked several times in apparent confusion, then looked sharply up at Thakûf. " _Pizdur_?" he whispered incredulously. "'s'at you, lad?"

"Don't know no _pizdur_ ," Thakûf snarled. "Cut me down, Gwen! Hurry!"

"Nar, nar, leave off," the Orc growled, emerging from cover and advancing toward Gwen. She pressed against the tree and squeaked with shock; the Orc was completely naked. Before she squeezed her eyes shut, she was treated to the vision of a very old male's privates, dangling between two shrivelled legs. She nearly dropped the knife to cover her closed eyes for good measure, and will that vision from her mind. To her surprise, the Orc pushed her roughly out of the way and began untying the rope. "Don't know how hard it is tuh get hold'uh rope round 'ere, do yuh?" he muttered.

In short order, Thakûf was lowered to the ground, where he hurried to free his leg with fumbling, anxious fingers. He'd hardly gotten the loop loose when the Orc grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. The Orc's beady little red eyes scanned Thakûf's face, and the Uruk froze, barely able to breathe, while he was examined.

"Nar," the Orc finally muttered. "You ain't 'at _pizdur_ fuckwit. Young enough tuh be 'at stupid, whiny _pizurk_ , though." He sniffed Thakûf a few times, then shook his head. "Nar. Not him. They's all gone. Dead and gone now."

"Who're you?" Thakûf asked shakily, and jerked his chin free. He leaped to his feet and immediately circled the old Orc to stand by Gwen. The Uruk spared her a quick glance and a sniff; apart from the weird blood-like scent he'd picked up on her that morning, she seemed fine. She grabbed his arm and cleaved tightly to his side.

The Orc didn't move; he remained sitting on the ground, shaking his head and muttering to himself as if Thakûf were still there. "Gone and gone," he murmured. "Mountains is empty now. Every hole echoes. Nobody left. All gone."

"Uh... you all right?" Thakûf ventured warily. He didn't trust this mad old Orc, and stood in front of Gwen like a shield.

"Use'ta know these mountains," the Orc mused distantly. "They's changed. Ain't seen nothin' I know. Too far south, I guess. Too far. So far away..."

"Orc?" the Uruk tried again, itching to nudge the Orc's shoulder just to get his attention. There was something profoundly sad about the poor creature, as if the Fall had done something to his mind. "What's yer name?"

Startled, the Orc looked up at Thakûf with a bewildered expression. He blinked a few times before saying, "Yuh got caught in their trap, didn't yuh?"

Thakûf nodded, and slowly lowered himself to a crouch. "What were they tryin' to catch?"

"Me," the Orc told him. "Seen'em hereabouts, sneakin' round. Lookin' for me." Frowning, he added, "Or maybe lookin' fer you." The Orc squinted, and looked at Thakûf with greater scrutiny. "Yer from Isengard, ain'tcha?"

"Yeah," the Uruk nodded. "Were you there?"

The Orc nodded slowly. "Long time. Couldn't say how long, though." Chuckling, he added, "Get to my age, lad, years go by without yuh noticin'."

Smiling hesitantly, Thakûf tried a different tack. "So... what've you been doin' out here, since... yuh know... the Fall and... all that?"

"Ah nar, nar," the Orc grumbled, shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. He rolled onto his hands and knees, then rose to his feet by clawing his way up a tree trunk. "Knees ain't what they used tuh be," he muttered, wincing as he shook the stiffness from his legs. "S'pose I oughta be nice and invite yuh in fer a bit of a bite tuh eat."

"Oh, uh, we don't wanna be no trouble to yuh," Thakûf quickly interjected.

"Fer an Isengarder, it ain't no trouble," the Orc grinned, his sharp teeth surprisingly healthy for one so old. He seemed to have regained his grasp on the here and now, for his eyes were sharply focused on the Uruk. "You can tell me what _you_ been up to." His gaze slid over to Gwen, who now had her head bowed and was shielding her eyes behind her hands. The Orc smirked. "What'd 'at old fucker do tuh you lot, eh? Can't look at nothin' but yer _tarks_ fer matin', can yuh?" Shaking his head, he chuckled again. "Where'd yuh dig up this pretty one, eh?"

"That ain't none'uh yer business," Thakûf snapped defensively. "And we ain't goin' nowhere with yuh. So... you just... We're stayin' right here."

The Orc gave Thakûf a withering look. "There's a party'uh Orc hunters hereabouts. Seen'em. Smelled'em. Havin' a fun time of it robbin' their traps of bait, the fools. You wanna stay out here in the open all night, 'at's up tuh you. Tell yuh one thing, though: they's huntin' up Orcs at night, cause they know 'at's when we's out and about. See yer fire, they'll come round. Get the drop on yuh when yuh ain't lookin' fer it. So why don'tcha get under cover tonight. I'm old; I gotta do my huntin' in the daylight cause I can't fuckin' see in the dark no more. You and yer mate come with me; yuh got my word I won't hurt neither of yuh."

Gwen was startled enough by being called Thakûf's mate that she looked at the Orc. Even more surprising was that Thakûf made no attempt to correct the Orc's assumption. Unsure whether setting the Orc straight was a wise move at the moment, she decided to keep it to herself for now.

"Tell us yer name, then," Thakûf insisted, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. The Orc grunted with amusement.

"I'm called Golmud, lad. Now come tell me what's been goin' on since the world ended."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golmud makes his squicky, gross, and extremely disturbing debut in "Isengard's Deceit: What Little Girls are Made Of." Yeah. That crazy little bastard's still around. ;)


	10. Family Matters

The game trail ahead was, thankfully, easily navigable by unguided feet. His mind heavy with burdensome thoughts, Nûrzgrat paid little heed to where he was going, only occasionally remembering to duck when a low branch crossed the path. He'd heard Sandy say something once a while back, something that he'd fogotten until now when it suddenly made sense...

 _Be careful what you wish for_.

How often had he lamented the absence of kinship in Isengard? More with each passing year. Like an aching tooth, he'd poked and prodded that desire, feeding his own bitterness and anger with his master's oversight. Perhaps he thought that if he railed against it furiously enough, something might change. So it had, in the last place he would have looked for it.

What had he expected? That they would embrace him with open arms, their long-lost kin? Not with all Akhûna's talk of worthless _baalaku_. That was all he was to her, to them, to all Orcs. He'd often heard the _snaga_ impotently plotting the removal of Nûrzgrat's kind from the world, as though their existence was a stain upon Orc-kind. A badge of shame. A blight. He remembered hearing tales when he was very young, about Uruks getting mauled by packs of Goblins in the lower tunnels if they ventured too close to the _snaga_ dens. He'd been taken unawares once himself, and pounded into the ground before a troop of Uruks happened upon the scuffle and broke it up. There was little tolerance for the Uruk-hai among the Orcs in Isengard; their disapproval boiled just beneath the surface, a frustrated seething hate quelled only by the wizard's powerful hold on them all. _Sharku_ had a time of it instilling order, to be truthful, and made it still more difficult by impressing upon his 'pure' Orc servants that the Uruk-hai were their betters.

 _That_ went over well. Perhaps open war was not officially declared in the bowels of Isengard, but it came close. And all the while, the Uruks preyed upon their own with as much vigor as the Orcs did. It was a wonder the mud pits weren't waist deep in the blood of the slain, for Orcs were in charge of Uruk birthing. They were on hand when the helpless, half-formed fetuses were cut from the breeders' bellies, and they sewed the females closed after. Nûrzgrat himself had overheard the barely suppressed snickers and bragging when a hand 'slipped' and a breeder was rendered useless, knowing the deed would go unnoticed until a prolonged attempt to re-breed the female failed.

Anything they could get away with to undermine the creation of more _baalaku_ was done with a chuckle and a wink, and _Sharku_ blindly carried on with his plans, unaware. Nûrzgrat should not have been surprised by Akhûna's rejection, but it stabbed like a knife in the chest regardless.

* * *

Behind the brooding Uruk, Brytta kept a watchful look out. By keeping Faelur between herself and her mate, she ensured the Man stayed with them. Both males seemed too lost in their thoughts to converse with her, not that she had an ounce of attention to spare. Nûrzgrat's distraction shifted the burden of guardianship onto her shoulders, but she was loathe to insist upon his aid.

Their relationship was a new one, and there were many things he hadn't had the chance to share with her yet, but the great hole in his heart his making had left – the place where that sense of familial belonging resided – was a subject he'd most certainly brought up more than once. He'd first inquired of her willingness to bear his children. After she'd assured him of her strong desire to do just that, he'd been emboldened, and asked many questions: Did she know her own parents? Did she have siblings? Might she wish to one day visit them, and if so, would he be a shame to her?

The last was troublesome, for she knew the answer all too well. She had one brother, with whom she had not spoken in years. Perhaps Marcus was an idealist and unusually progressive in his thinking, but he would undoubtedly draw the line at Brytta's choice of husband. So too would her father strongly disapprove. As for her mother, Brytta could almost see the woman's look of horror.

She hadn't the heart to tell him these things, and now she was glad of it. How much worse would his feeling of rejection be if he knew there would be no quarter given by _her_ family either?

As she marched along, occasionally glancing at Nûrzgrat's stiff back, Brytta wondered if it would lift his spirits to be told that family was not always something with which one was born. Some families were made. He had certainly gathered a supportive one about him in the settlement; their loyalty and caring for him should not be dismissed simply because they did not share his blood.

Now did not seem to be the time to broach the subject, though. He was hurt and angry; she could see it in his gait. He was very like her, she'd found; sometimes, she simply needed to indulge her fury until the storm was spent. Only then could she listen to reason. Nûrzgrat was no different. For now, Brytta watched and waited for the worst of the winds to blow themselves out.

It was past mid-day when she called a rest. Faelur's already shuffling steps had begun to stagger from fatigue; she wondered if he'd continue walking until he collapsed unless forced to stop. The trio settled on the ground without speaking.

Strangely, it was Faelur who broke the silence. It seemed he'd been working himself up, scraping together his courage, for it was not Brytta to whom he directed his words. Hesitant and shaky, he turned to Nûrzgrat and feebly cleared his throat.

"I... I... beg a f-favor," Faelur stammered in a low, hoarse voice. Startled from his own sullen mood, Nûrzgrat looked up questioningly. The Man took a deep breath to speak, faltered, then tried again. "G-grant me... a... a... a m-merciful... end, if you... would be... so kind."

Nûrzgrat blinked stupidly at the whiteskin. A moment passed before he'd processed the request, then he flared angrily. His mouth contorted in a snarl and he would have said something truly despiccable, no doubt, had Brytta not interjected.

"Faelur," she said firmly, "you cannot ask that of him, or me. You have only to rest for a while, and put this all behind you. Do not give in to despair so easily."

"Easy?" Faelur asked incredulously. He stared at Brytta as though she were a fool. "You know nothing, woman. You know _nothing_."

"I understand...," she began, and the man's eyes flashed.

" _Do_ you?" he scoffed. "Do you feel their claws and smell their breath? Do hear them grunting and growling in the darkness? Do you feel them reaching for you, dragging at you, their fingers about your throat? Do you feel these things? If you do not, waking _and_ sleeping, then you do _not_ understand."

Taken aback, Brytta shut her mouth. In truth, she _didn't_ understand. Until the very same Orcs captured her and Nûrzgrat, she hadn't been where he was, enduring what he endured. The threat was terrifying enough; to actually experience the sort of humiliations that were doubtless applied to this man... She shuddered to imagine how she might react.

Would she have the strength to rise again? Would she seek vengeance, or beg for death? She didn't know, and hoped never to find out.

"Look," Nûrzgrat said quietly, his voice as reasonable as he could make it, "maybe she don't know what they done to you, exactly, but _I_ can guess. Thing is, I know how you treated your mate before you got your ass kicked out of the settlement, where you were _safe_."

"Nûrzgrat," Brytta warned. His yellow eyes flicked to hers, but he otherwise ignored her.

"If you want death, I'll give it to yuh," Nûrzgrat promised, his lips curling in a hungry grin. "Nothin' would give me greater pleasure. But first, I wanna see you _on your_ _fuckin' knees_ , beggin' that woman to forgive your worthless hide."

" _Nûrzgrat_!" his mate cried. "That is _enough_!"

Faelur closed his eyes and bowed his head. A moment passed, then on a shuddering breath, he began to weep. He covered his face with his hands.

Brytta gave Nûrzgrat an exasperated look. "What am I to do with you?"

"Needed tuh be said," he grunted.

"Perhaps... but now?" She shook her head. "Your timing is as poor as your delivery."

Huffing dismissively, he growled, "You want flowery words and lies, you came to the wrong Uruk. That pile of shit near strangled his mate, knocked his whelp's tooth loose, and you want me to be _nice_? _Fuck_ that."

"He has suffered..."

"And Mae ain't?" Nûrzgrat countered. "Who the fuck do you know who ain't suffered? So he got pounded for a couple weeks; Ghru got it from half of fuckin' Isengard for twenty years! Nah, I don't give a fuck for this meatsack and his 'sufferin'.'"

Brytta glared at the Uruk for several moments, unsure what to say. His jaw was grinding, and he couldn't look her in the eyes. "I understand you've received a great blow, Nûrzgrat, but that is no excuse for abusing this poor man. He has suffered... _he has suffered_ ," she repeated, overriding her mate's attempt to share more of his opinions, "and you will respect that, even if you do not respect him. Now please, shut your fucking mouth."

So rarely did Brytta swear, her words silenced Nûrzgrat completely. Snorting and crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away. She almost laughed; he looked like an angry child who has not gotten his way.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she laid a hand on Faelur's shoulder. "My apologies, Faelur. When we reach the settlement, we shall all feel better."

The man slowly looked up at her, his eyes wet. "I can't face her," he breathed. "I wronged her, I know. Perhaps... perhaps I was deserving..."

"No, not of this," Brytta assured him. He did not appear convinced.

"I do not want her to see me like this. I can't bear it."

Refusing even to glance at her mate, she said quietly, "I know it will be difficult, but... in this, at least, I agree with Nûrzgrat: you must make amends with Mae. Do this one thing, and... all else... will seem... brighter."

Faelur slowly looked over at Nûrzgrat. The Uruk had half turned in their direction, looking over his shoulder at them. The Man saw the fulfillment of his request in the foul creature's expression, but not in the manner he would prefer.

Must everything to do with Orcs involve pain? Shuddering, he carefully lay on his side and folded his trembling limbs about him.

After the Man had drifted into fitful dreams, Nûrzgrat escaped into the night to brood over his misfortunes. The hissed whispers of his mate, admonishing him for being a callous bastard, finally got on his last nerve. While she seemed able to acknowledge the possibility that the _pushdug_ would likely off himself if no 'callous bastard' helped him along, she didn't seem to think it was acceptable to insult Faelur before he did it. Nûrzgrat honestly couldn't understand why it mattered.

It wasn't until she'd threatened to refuse his bed that he'd finally relented. He hadn't realized how completely she had him by the balls until she pulled _that_ one on him. _Like a fuckin'_ _ **snaga**_ _,_ he grumbled as he circled their little camp watchfully.

* * *

"I already told Morkoth..."

"I don't care what you told him," Brie interrupted angrily. "You owe me an explanation. You owe _Sandy_ an explanation. What was going through your mind, Ghru? Ash is a _baby_. You _never_ hit a child, _ever_! He is small and weak; he can't take a hit like... like Morkoth could. You could've killed him! What were you _thinking?_ "

Sitting hunched over on the side of their bed, his hands clasped between his knees, Ghru stared at the floor in shame. Their whelp cooed softly in her crib, chewing on one of Ilsa's dolls. None had marked the young girl's hasty departure when Ghru attacked Ash, but when Ilsa reappeared, she offered a toy from her own bed to soothe the infant. For some reason, the scarred Uruk felt a thousand times more foul and brutish after that.

"He is small, but he is one of us," Ghru replied haltingly, unsure. Morkoth seemed to think the whelps' births were not guarantees, that perhaps they would not be the same as their fathers. Was it true? He had no idea. Until Ilsa came into their lives, and later Ashmau, none of the Uruks had seen something so like them, yet so small and vulnerable. He didn't know what that meant, and had never asked. Morkoth was the sort who asked, not Ghru. Asking questions got one noticed; Ghru never liked to be noticed. Showing ignorance brought ridicule; Ghru had no defense against such a thing. He'd watched the tiny Ashmau fall and pick himself back up, never understanding why the whelp was so clumsy. He'd held that boy in his arms, staring down in his face, wondering... _What is he hiding? When will he strike? Who will he attack first?_

After he'd become somewhat accustomed to the mysterious wonder of Hontor's existence, he'd been watching Ashmau, wary and suspicious. An Uruk preys on those weaker than him; he fully expected Ashmau's first prey to be Hontor, because the other people in the settlement were so much larger and more intimidating.

"I don't know what you mean," Brie huffed. "Why that even matters. He's a _baby_..."

"I do not know what that is!" her mate flared defensively. "When we are born, we are full of hate and anger. We are strong enough to kill. We seek prey the moment our eyes open. We are killers and... and... and rapists. That is what we _are_!"

"That's ridiculous! How can you...? At _birth_? How is that even _possible_?"

A low rumbling growl rolled from the Uruk, and he muttered, "Have you forgotten? We are like Thakûf is _now_ , when we are born. I have seen _thousands_ of my kind birthed from the mud; do not tell me it is _ridiculous_." His lip curling in a snarl, he pointed furiously toward the door. "I will not turn my back on him. Morkoth fears it too. He is watching as well."

Brie slowly sat on the bed beside him. "Oh my god. No, it's not... All right, yes... I _did_ forget. You're born as... adults, mostly. So... you think Ash is just a... really small adult Uruk?"

"Yes," Ghru snapped. After a moment, his brow furrowed with uncertainty and he slowly looked at her. "Isn't he?"

"No," she said as calmly as she could manage. Concepts so deceptively simple, taken for granted and internalized by Brie's own culture and society, were not so easily grasped by someone like Ghru. She had to remind herself constantly that his experiences weren't normal by any stretch of the imagination. "A baby is a very, very young version of us, but... not exactly. You see, he has to grow and learn. He's only two now; he has so much more growing to do, just to catch up to Thakûf and Razkaar."

"What must he learn?" he frowned uncertainly.

"Everything, really. How to talk, how to reason, what's right and wrong," Brie shrugged. "He's pretty good at walking now, but that was something he had to learn and practice a lot. Ghru, a baby needs to be protected and cared for because he can't protect or care for himself. He's completely helpless, and very weak compared to an adult." Drawing a deep breath, she reminded him firmly, "You could've killed him. Whether you meant to or not, it could _easily_ happen. You're much stronger than he is, and far bigger."

Stricken by the realization, Ghru stared at the door of their home as if he could see out into the common area, and perhaps further. "I didn't think... Morkoth's whelp." He shook his head anxiously. "That isn't what I meant..."

"I know it wasn't. Morkoth and Sandy do too," Brie assured him, taking his hand. "But I want you to understand that you should never, _ever_ hit or push a baby. Or a child like Ilsa. Even Raz is small enough to be badly injured if you lose your temper again. Children aren't... _finished_ yet, I guess. Not like you and I are. They have growing and learning yet to do. You have to learn to stop yourself, Ghru." She smiled ruefully and squeezed his hand. "I'm not strong enough to do it."

A half smile tipped the corner of his mouth. "You are stronger than I am, by far," he muttered. "I am sorry, Brianna. I feel... stupid."

"You aren't stupid. Unless it's told to you, how in the world can you make these connections? You never saw a baby in Isengard, so... I guess it's understandable that you'd think they're just like 'newborn' Uruks, only smaller."

"Newborn Uruks lust for blood and cunt," Ghru growled. "Master made sure of it."

"That's what it was when _he_ was involved," Brie interjected, squeezing his hand to draw his attention away from that memory. "That's not how it is when he's not. A newborn Uruk _here_ only has eating, sleeping, and pooping on his mind." A short laugh escaped the Uruk, and his mate smiled. "You've watched Ashmau grow up. You saw him born. Why didn't you tell me... or ask? Morkoth did." Shaking her head, she sighed, "I can't believe, after all this time, _he_ still thinks there's some magical... thing an Uruk carries from generation to generation, making him violent no matter what sort of upbringing he's had."

"Master made us this way," the scarred Uruk said quietly. "While we were in the pits, he put... things in our heads. Words, mostly. So we could speak when we were born. Other things, probably. I don't know. Saw him do it sometimes." Ghru blanched, remembering the quiescent forms inside the membranes suddenly writhing in silent agony while _Sharku_ murmured over them. And again, their screams after birthing, when the wizard put _his_ thoughts in their heads, making them his slaves.

"He's not here now," Brie reassured him. "Nûrzgrat said he never touched either Thak or Raz..."

"He did," Ghru interrupted.

Taken aback, she blinked at him. "What?"

"Got to them same as us." Glancing over, he saw her shock, and muttered, "They could talk and understand our words after we brought them out. Saruman had already put that in their heads. He just didn't get a chance to put the rest in."

Brie hesitated to ask if she should be worried. In Ghru's present state of mind, it was likely he'd tell her yes, she should. With him, she'd learned to proceed with extreme caution. He exhibited all the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder; the slightest prod could trigger a retreat. The last two years, she'd spent a great deal of time slowly drawing him out, but it was a lengthy process. He was scarred so deeply she was often at a loss for how to help him heal. It was a daunting prospect, given the fact that it was so ingrained in him to keep silent, to hold back his emotions, to hide. The recent revelations of Faelur's torment, and the close proximity of his tormenters, had most certainly acted as triggers, and Ghru was more nervous and edgy than usual.

"Ghru," she ventured carefully, "maybe we can't be entirely sure that Ashmau will be different from what you expect. What we _can_ do is help him be a better person as he grows up. Teach him right from wrong. Encourage him to make good choices."

The Uruk stared at his hands, his brow furrowed. "Give him... what we never had." Brie nodded.

"Yes. Guidance, understanding, and love." Smiling a little, she patted his knee. "We'll give the same to Hontor. This isn't Isengard, Ghru. You'll never have to go back there, and it will never come here. You're safe. Hontor is safe." In an attempt to lighten the mood, she said, "If you've thought this way, I'm surprised you don't get bent out of shape whenever Raz and Ilsa run off into the woods."

To her surprise, Ghru shrugged dismissively. "She's his mate. He won't hurt her."

"I beg your pardon?"

Made uncertain by her reaction, he ventured, "Isn't she?"

"Um...," Brie began, unsure how to proceed. "Just what is it you think they're doing out there?"

"Mating?" Ghru tentatively suggested.

Brie briefly firmed her lips to suppress the explosive response of shock at what she would consider a ludicrous assumption. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and asked as calmly as she could, "What... what makes you think that?"

"He is very protective of her," the Uruk muttered. "Just as I am of you. He cares for her, as I do for you. He... has not hurt her, or she would not go with him any... more..." Frowning, he gave Brie a concerned look. "She does not go with him now. Do you think...?"

"No," Brie replied firmly. "I assure you this is not about him... hurting her. Honestly, Ghru, if I suspected _anything_ of Raz, I'd put a stop to their little 'adventures,' and have a long talk with him. But he's not interested at all, as far as I can tell. He hasn't even had a wet dream. This little business with Ilsa right now... I'm pretty sure it's because Ashmau is a much more interesting toy than her dolls," she chuckled. "I've watched them; she's showing Ash the things that Raz showed _her_. I think he's just... growing too old to play the kinds of games a four-year-old is interested in. A lot like how Thakûf got too old to play Raz's games, and moved on to... oh my god." She slowly turned to look at Ghru, but her expression was more amused than shocked. "What the hell is wrong with me? Those two are in love, aren't they?"

"Who?"

"Thakûf and Gwen. I feel like such an idiot." Shaking her head and laughing, Brie explained, "That whole business with her in the boys' shelter that night, and hanging around together so much and... Good grief, it's like I forgot what it's like to be a teenager." Sighing, she went on, "But that's another topic altogether. Raz isn't... _probably_ isn't even masturbating at this point, which I think might be a developmental delay for him. I wish I could remember the stuff about childhood... Anyway, the fact is, if Raz tried to mate with Ilsa at her current age, it would hurt her _a lot_ , and I guarantee we'd have heard about it by now. He would never _intentionally_ hurt her, which pretty much rules out rape."

"But... if he wants to mate...," Ghru pressed, and Brie shook her head.

"Rape isn't about mating," she informed him. "It's not even about sex, really. It's about control and doing harm and degradation, humiliation... but it's not something that happens between people who _truly_ care for one another." A half smile tipped the corner of her mouth. "That was what I was the most afraid of, when we first met. Because you didn't know me, or like me particularly. What was to stop you from doing that to me?"

Ghru swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. "Nothing. Except... I did... like you. Particularly. I wanted you. But it was... more than that. I wanted... sex, but... I didn't like it when you were afraid. The smell of it... made me ill. And... you would have... left, if I..." His head sunk lower; his voice was barely a mumble. "I knew I could not bear to be without you."

Brie took his hand. "Yet you would have left, after that day," she reminded him softly. "You said you thought about it, for my sake. If you hadn't believed... _he_ was still around, you would have gone." Ghru shook his head slowly.

"How could I?" he muttered, his thin lips curved in a slight smile. "I would go mad, as Frû did."

Furrowing her brow, his mate blinked at him in confusion. "What are you saying?"

He seemed about to reply, then thought better of it and shook his head. "Nothing." Sighing, he rubbed his eyes roughly. "I do not understand about... children, I suppose."

"I know," Brie nodded. Reluctantly allowing the subject to change, Brie released his hand and put her arm around his shoulders. He'd left a question in her mind she was loathe to let go unanswered, but long experience had taught her not to prod her mate too hard lest he retreat beyond her reach. "Ask me, if something doesn't look right or... you aren't sure. Ask... well, don't ask Morkoth; it sounds like he's having the same worries. Ask Sandy. Or Mae."

"Must I apologize to Sandy?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, I think you should," she replied, then smiled. "Don't worry; I'll protect you."

* * *

"'Ere we are," Golmud muttered as he ducked through a well-camouflaged opening in the side of a hill. "Nice 'n cozy."

Thakûf glanced worriedly at Gwen. She'd been mostly silent all the way to the old Orc's den, staring at the ground before her feet, the trees they passed, the wind-tossed leafy branches overhead... anywhere but at Golmud's naked, sagging backside. The young Uruk's experiences were limited; if the Orc didn't possess many of the same features as he did, Thakûf wouldn't have known he _was_ an Orc. It was strange to meet one with no Man's blood in him, and he had to confess a deep curiosity. Deep enough to make him quite foolish, he realized.

Only now did he recall Nûrzgrat and Brytta's warning to steer clear of caves. Was caution enough to keep him and Gwen safe? He wanted to believe the benign-seeming Orc had spoken the truth, and wouldn't do anything to them. There were answers to be had in that cave, perhaps an explanation of what he was going through. He'd often heard Nûrzgrat complaining about not knowing what part of them came from Orcs, what part from Men. Perhaps this strange draw toward Gwen was Orcish? How would he know without asking? Gripping his sword hilt firmly, he crouched and crawled warily inside.

The small cave was almost pitch black; very little ambient light from outside peeked through the underbrush and overgrowth hiding the entrance. Golmud's barely discerned form squatted in the center next to a blackened depression full of charred wood, busily striking a flint. The flying sparks briefly illuminated what he was about, and the rocky sound eased the Uruk's mind for the moment. Thakûf carefully twitched the covering back into place after Gwen scooted inside. He kept his wary eyes on the Orc.

"I'm frightened," Gwen whispered when Thakûf settled next to her. He nodded.

"Yeah. I'm watchin'im."

"Don't bother whisperin' yer sweet nothin's," Golmud suddenly said. "It's just me eyes 'at ain't so good. Ears is still strong."

Glancing sheepishly at Gwen, Thakûf ventured, "So... how long you been here?"

"Years, months, days...," the Orc shrugged. The glowing coals cast a menacing light on his face, yet also showed a deep sadness. "Don't pay it much mind. Can't go south, can't go west, can't go east... 'At leaves north." He paused for a moment, then muttered hollowly, "Already been 'ere. Can't go back."

As long as she was in the Orc's home, Gwen supposed she may as well make the best of things. Perhaps Golmud's demeanor seemed a confusing mix that inspired as much caution as pity, but he also seemed lonely and sad. The darkness now concealed the Orc's lack of dress, much to her relief. If this was what a male looked like in the altogether... She shuddered with shameful revulsion, sincerely hoping that it was extreme age that made a man's... parts so unattractive. Surely Thakûf wouldn't look quite so... off-putting.

Admonishing herself for even _thinking_ of what Thakûf might look like without clothing on, especially _now_ , she forced herself to ask, "Why not?"

Golmud looked up from his task of coaxing a flame, and seemed to consider his answer. A slow smile curved his mouth. "'At's where I left'er, see. 'At's _her_ place. I don't belong."

"Who is she?" the Uruk probed, leaning closer. The old Orc's grin broadened, and his mad eyes danced mischievously.

"'At's my secret, lad. Ain't told nobody fer hundreds'uh years. Sure as fuck ain't gonna tell you."

"Sorry," Thakûf muttered, withdrawing awkwardly. "It's just... she... whoever she is, seems real important."

"She was, she was," Golmud agreed, his gaze drifting. His voice softened to wistfulness, and he sighed. "Like a star come down from the sky."

"Why'd yuh leave?" Thakûf asked timidly. There was something about this Orc that set him on edge, but whether it was an intuitive wariness on his part, or the potential for unpredictability in Golmud's madness, he couldn't say. One thing was certain: Thakûf would not allow himself to sleep that night. He absolutely refused to leave Gwen unguarded for even a moment.

Golmud slowly turned his red eyes on the Uruk. "Not yer business, is it?" he snapped, his face contorting angrily. Thakûf's hand went immediately for his sword, urging an amused chuckle from the Orc. "Nar, nar. Just a whelp, yuh are. Whelps always ask questions, don't they? Or maybe yuh don't know, eh? Not yet?" His brow lifted inquiringly, his grin turning to a smirk. "'Spect yuh don't just yet. Girl's bleedin', so I knows yuh ain't done'er up proper. Maybe next time, eh?"

"What's it for? The blood." Thakûf asked, completely distracted by the mention of Gwen's blood-scent. He'd forgotten she was next to him, and missed the sudden flush of her cheeks. Golmud, however, noted her hot blush and chuckled again.

"Please," she breathed, cringing away. "Something else... _anything_ else..."

Finally glancing over and seeing Gwen's extreme discomfiture, Thakûf hastened to apologize. "Sorry, Gwen. I just... I dunno what it _is_. I smell this blood, but it ain't exactly like blood... It's weird. It didn't seem to be botherin' you, so... I didn't know what to make of it."

"Oh my," Gwen whispered, covering her face with both hands and drawing up her knees. She wished she could melt into the ground, or bolt out the doorway. It did not help matters that the Orc had begun to laugh heartily at Thakûf's words, and now had been reduced to choking and wheezing.

Evidently, Thakûf realized he'd get no answers from Gwen, and turned to Golmud. "What's it for?" he repeated, even more curious than before.

"Ah, lad," the old Orc gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "'At were the funniest fuckin' thing... Yer mate looks like she been slapped plenty hard! Fergot what uptight little prisses Men are." A full minute of renewed laughter assailed Golmud before he regained his composure. "It's fer whelpin', lad. 'At blood is. Lass don't get whelped, the blood runs out 'cause it ain't needed. Starts up fresh again in a couple weeks."

"So... she's all right?"

"Aye," Golmud nodded, and winked cheekily at the mortified Gwen. "Might be she's not feelin' so good, but it ain't gonna kill'er or nothin'. So stop yer worryin'."

"Whelpin'," Thakûf repeated worriedly. His gaze followed Golmud's. "You ain't... whelpin', are yuh? 'Cause I didn't... I don't _think_ I did... Did I?"

" _No_ ," Gwen snapped tightly. Lifting her head from her knees, she glared at both Orcs. "I would rather not discuss it, _if you don't mind_."

The old Orc snorted. "It ain't like yer the first lass to bleed out yer cunny. 'S natural, it is."

"Really?" the Uruk asked, turning to the Orc once more. Part of him was ashamed for upsetting Gwen, but another part was dead curious and feared that if he didn't get the answers now, from someone apparently eager to give them, he'd never get them at all. "Happens to Orcs, too?"

"Only the lasses," Golmud qualified. "'S how yuh know they can breed, 'cause when 'at bloody business starts, it means they's gettin' old enough to carry a whelp." He laughed again, clearly enjoying the topic if only at Gwen's expense. "Lads, though... we don't have the same shit happen to us. We knows we can make a whelp soon as 'at first bit of spew comes outta our todgers."

"Todgers?" Thakûf asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yer dick, boy!" the Orc barked, laughing even harder. "Don't tell me yuh ain't yanked yer ol' felluh and made it spew."

"Course I have," the young Uruk replied uncomfortably, glancing again at Gwen. She had half turned away from them and fixed her humiliated gaze on the wall. By the bright red of her ears, he guessed she was hearing every word they said, and not liking a single one. He seemed to have a knack for embarrassing the poor woman, Thakûf thought miserably. "Maybe we oughta... talk about somethin' else."

Golmud shrugged. "Suit yerself. Maybe you'll tell me what come of that little war business in Rohan, eh? I got the fuck outta Isengard when the floodin' started. Never looked back. It ain't still goin' on, is it?"

Relieved to be on a safer topic, Thakûf shook his head. "Nah. War ended quick after Isengard flooded. Just a few weeks, I think. We was headin' away from it, but I guess we knew... Just sorta knew, yuh know?"

"Aye," the old Orc nodded. "'At were a bad day, when the Eye died. Bad and good, both." Gazing over his guests' heads at nothing in particular, Golmud whispered, "Caught a look at my right mind there for a second. Hadn't seen it in so long..." Sighing, he added with a slight smile, "'En it were gone."

"So... you just been wanderin' ever since?"

"A bit," Golmud replied. "Can't recall if I was goin' somewhere or not." He paused and frowned. "Ain't seen nobody from Isengard 'til you, lad. Reckon ain't many 'at got out. Was you alone? You and yer pretty one here?"

Thakûf stiffened and pressed his lips together. _No names_ , Nûrzgrat had said. The leader's painful grip on his arm came rushing to mind. "No, we was... I mean, I was alone. She ain't from there."

The Orc's cunning eyes narrowed, and a little smile formed. "Hmph. You'se too young tuh be outta the mud pit, boy. Just a hair too young, maybe, but too young. I'm thinkin' you ain't tellin' me the truth. Yuh got pulled early, didn't yuh? Pulled, and yuh grown up the last couple seasons. And yuh said 'we was headin' away.' Who's 'we'?"

Thakûf's eyes darted anxiously as he teetered on the edge of telling a lie. He'd never been good at it, never had a reason to do it. But if he didn't _say_ names... if he only said a few things... Would it hurt anyone? He glanced at Gwen, who'd turned back toward the conversation, and her expression was as panicked as he felt.

"Uh...," Thakûf stammered, "there was a few of us. Um... they come through the mud pits on the way out, when the waters came. Took me with'em." He shrugged helplessly. "'At's all I know."

Golmud stared skeptically at the Uruk for several moments. "Uruks did'at, eh? Saruman's Uruks. Uruks what don't give a fuck fer nobody but 'emselves, yanked a newborn outta the pits..." He shook his head, clearly baffled. "Yuh obviously got away from'em 'fore they 'et yuh."

Taken aback, Thakûf snapped, "They didn't try to eat me! They took care'uh me! Taught me how to talk and walk and... Took care of me proper, like."

" _Saruman's_ half-Men? Really?" Golmud demanded incredulously. "Listen, lad: I watched'em comin' out from day one, those miserable piles of fuckin' dung. Weren't worth a piss to start with, less of a piss by the end. Maybe two, three of'em I wouldn't knife soon's their back turned. Rest of'em... deserved tuh fuckin' hang, they did."

"You just don't like us cause of... cause we got Man's blood in us," Thakûf snarled defensively. "Nûrzgrat always says, Orcs hate us cause _Sharkû_ said we was better'n the _snaga_..."

"Nûrzgrat?" the Orc blurted with surprise. "'Djou say _Nûrzgrat_?"

"No," the Uruk said quickly, shaking his head. "That ain't what I said." He felt Gwen's hand grasp his, and glanced over fearfully.

"Nar, nar," Golmud said, pointing at Thakûf. " _You_ said Nûrzgrat. Told yuh: it's me eyes that ain't so good. Ears don't miss nothin'." Settling back against a rock, lost in a sudden rush of memories, the old Orc murmured, "Ain't heard 'at name in a while. Used to call'im 'Biter,' I did. He hated that. Clever little fucker, he was. Next time yuh see'im, tell'im old Golmud gives his regards, eh? Maybe yuh tell'im he shouldn't'uh wasted his time givin' his ass tuh Frapuishi. Old Golmud could'uh told'im everything." Then the Orc chuckled to himself and shook his head, remembering.

"Told him what?" Thakûf asked quietly, forgetting again that he wasn't supposed to know who Nûrzgrat was. Whatever it was he was implying about Nûrzgrat and someone named Frapuishi was lost on the young Uruk.

"Well, yuh see," the old Orc murmured, "Master had his record books and his figures, 'cause Men ain't got the head fer 'at shit. Orcs remember. We know who fucks who, which Orcess dropped what whelp, 'at sorta thing. If we give a fuck, we learn it, and remember it. I had a fuck tuh give in 'at case, 'cause them mountain Orcs the wizard used... well, some come from up north."

"Where you came from."

"Aye. Clans split sometimes. Some'll run off fer one reason or another; rest carries on. We lost a load of'em to Dol Guldur, than 'at business at the mountain scattered the lot... Oh, they talked 'bout comin' from the south, but I knew. My old clan... we Shatûpshaatii folk was northerners from the start."


End file.
